


Café au Lait

by battleshidge (Amiria_Raven)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: College AU, Crushes, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Friends to Lovers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, SHIDGE, coffee shop AU, hints of hunk/shay, later hints of klance, not your typical coffee shop au, shiropidge, the PTSD comes later, this gets intense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 48,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7825351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amiria_Raven/pseuds/battleshidge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pidge couldn’t describe exactly what it was about this new customer that was throwing her for a loop.</p><p>Maybe it was the way he walked. He carried himself straight, like a soldier, but there was a sort of grace to it that mesmerized her. He had a defined jaw and a prominent scar across his nose, but those features couldn’t hold her as much as the sharp, piercing gaze that spoke in a language infinitely more important than words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Latte I

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to another multichapter Shidge fic by yours truly!
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: I use female pronouns for Katie "Pidge" Holt in this fic! And [Lost and Found](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7491141/chapters/17026551) is still my primary Shidge fic, so updates for it will be prioritized over updates for this one! Even so, I'm going to do my best to have at least monthly updates. Please bear with me!
> 
> THIS IS NOT YOUR TYPICAL COFFEE SHOP OR COLLEGE AU. The title, which seems simple at first, is kind of a metaphor, and if you ask nicely maybe I'll explain a little further down the road. My friend Priya, who has been with me the entire time I've been planning the story, has called it "the most intense coffee shop AU I have ever read".
> 
> That said, I hope you enjoy the first chapter! :)

 

Of all the things she had imagined doing with her life, working at a coffee shop to pay her rent while she attended Garrison University wasn’t exactly at the top of the list.

That said, working at Café Altea wasn’t particularly strenuous. It was a cozy little coffee shop, with a quiet ambience that resonated with people and set a relaxing mood. Tables near the windows were lit by the outside and by small, dim lights, while a few tables near the back were more brightly lit, for those who wanted to read or work while enjoying their order. Rush hours at Café Altea were usually manned by two people and handled with minimal difficulty, and the patrons were, for the most part, pleasant and patient when they came during heavy customer traffic.

Katie “Pidge” Holt had been working there for about six months, teaming up with either her friend Hunk or her friend Lance for the evening rush, when her schedule shifted. Several of her required courses for her upcoming second semester at Garrison University were in the afternoon and evening, so she had to bid farewell to her partners in crime in favor of taking up the morning shift.

It was going to be a lot different handling the morning rush, because it was the only one that didn’t have two baristas. She’d miss Lance’s lame jokes and Hunk’s babbling...but at least she’d still get to meet up with them in one of their classes.

They all had to take the same physical education course, since the university was directly tied to the military and they were in the same unit. That part of the Galaxy Garrison’s strict training regimen had been with the three friends since they had started the associated high school together all those years ago, and they had been forced together as what was notoriously deemed the _worst_ team in the training program’s history.

She and the guys were great friends despite their many differences, but Lance’s impulsive behavior combined with Hunk’s cautious nature and her own analytical processes didn’t mesh very well in military procedures. Their biggest problem was probably leadership. As the pilot, the command should have gone to Lance on principle, but because Lance was so _dense,_ it was hard for Pidge and Hunk to sit back and let him take charge. The tactical know-how was definitely in Pidge’s ballpark, and Hunk knew the capabilities of every craft as if it was second nature. All Lance could do was fly. He had yet to learn that there was more to being a fighter pilot than recklessly charging forward, like listening to his communications expert and engineer when they told him that his newest order wasn’t possible.

In the coffee shop, though, their dynamic was entirely different. They worked together seamlessly, and Pidge begrudgingly attributed it to the rules set out by the owner herself. Allura didn’t tolerate any hitches in the way that Café Altea operated, and she made it clear on Pidge’s first day that punishment could be severe if the three of them screwed up too much.

She had been mortified to learn that their team reputation had gone as far as a _coffee shop_.

Pidge was forced to admit, though, that what their strong-willed team needed was a leader that could pull them together with an iron fist. They had practically grown up together as cadets, which meant that they had seen both the best and worst of each other. Knowing these strengths and weaknesses just made it harder for them to let one person be elevated to a leadership position.

Still, the fact that their struggles had made it outside of the academy was startling.

With her father and brother gone, declared missing in action during a rough battle against the Galra Empire just over three years earlier, she had been horrified that the Holt family legacy might rest on her failures when, just years before, it had been a name that was praised in the military world for both tactical decisions and an incredible knack for all things technical.

But more than she cared about the family legacy, she cared about getting her father and her brother back, safe and sound, from wherever they were. She was nothing if not stubborn, and she blatantly refused to allow them to be declared killed in action. It was one of the traits that she and her mother shared. It had been years, but they were still registered as MIA because the women in the Holt family refused to allow the change to KIA.

They were alive, the women believed, and they would return.

And one day, a few months into her first semester at Garrison University, that wish came true, against all odds. They might have been less healthy than she would have liked, but she had Sam and Matt Holt back and that was all that mattered to she and her mother. Matt was still her stupidly protective big brother, and her father was still exceedingly proud of his two genius children. But while she poked and prodded, curiosity urging her to find out more information about their captivity behind Galra lines, they had completely shut her off from those facts.

She knew that they had concocted a brilliant plan, and one lone, brave soldier had escaped to bring rescue back to their camp. It was the only little grain of knowledge she had yet managed to glean, but she took a few steps back. She didn’t want to reopen any wounds, not while they were still so fresh, and so she convinced herself to be satisfied with the fact that they were home.

It wasn’t hard.

After the first few months, in and out of the hospital and the base for checkups and reports, they were granted military leave. Her father and Matt would be heading home, to fill her mother’s once empty nest, and it would leave Pidge here, close to the university and working at the coffee shop to pay her apartment’s rent.

She’d moved into an apartment closer to the university during the summer, though it had been a tough decision to leave her mother behind, alone in the empty house that had once housed four people. Now that her father and Matt were back, though, her mother would be fine. She had only spent four months living on her own, and now she got to have her family back, for the most part. They might be rough around the edges, and they weren’t ready to talk about it yet, but they were still the father and brother that Pidge had kept close to her heart.

And while Pidge herself was a little lonely without them, it wasn’t like she wouldn’t get to talk to them as often as she liked, or even see them whenever she had the chance.

Matt often visited her, in fact, coming up to stay for the weekend to hang out with her. He’d even surprised her by visiting at work a time or two and ordering something so ridiculously sweet that Pidge couldn’t help but look at the finished product in disgust. His love of sweet drinks, however, made it so that he got on famously with both Lance and Hunk, though, and it was nice to see her brother fitting in with her friends so well.

His favorite drink was the white caramel mocha, something that Lance had actually recommended to him, and she couldn’t figure out why he liked it so much. The brother she remembered had been just as partial to more mellow or bittersweet flavors, the kind of coffee that she still preferred. That had been before the _incident_ , though, and while she wondered if part of his new preference was related to his time in captivity, Pidge wouldn’t probe him about it.

She was a curious soul, so not knowing was incredibly difficult to deal with, but she loved her brother more than she loved knowledge and she loathed the idea of bringing back a bad memory.

But, as she had learned in training for the morning rush with Coran for the past few days, her brother was definitely not the only one who had a seemingly insatiable desire for sugar. The morning rush seemed to be filled with patrons that either required ten times the normal amount of sugar or those that survived on caffeine alone. The very few that ordered the inbetweens, like Pidge herself, sometimes wore the same flabbergasted expressions as she did when they saw what their predecessor’s order consisted of.

Some of the sugary drinks she had to make almost made her turn her nose up in horror and repulsion. She couldn’t imagine drinking these concoctions, but customers loved them. As a barista, though she personally would have grimaced, Pidge had to smile as if she didn’t silently think that there was more sugar in that drink than she’d ingest in a week.

“Are you almost ready?!”

Pidge jumped at the sudden voice and turned to find Coran there, tapping his foot impatiently, raising an eyebrow at her as his mustache twitched. He was trying to hide a smile at her reaction, she knew, but she calmed herself quickly to deprive him of his amusement.

“Yeah, I’m ready!” she said, quickly tying her apron.

Getting up early always had her a little spacey, and it wasn’t exactly the time to reminisce. This was the last morning she’d get to have Coran here to help her with the morning rush, so she needed to be on top of things by this time tomorrow.

“You don’t look ready!” Coran challenged. “You have about ten minutes before the rush starts. Can you get everything together by then or can’t you?”

“Piece of cake!” she retorted.

And she bustled out the the front, pinching her own cheek lightly to wake herself up as she started to make her way through the motions. She put a pot of regular coffee on and made sure all of the machines were ready for the day, running through a mental checklist. She was going through the steps that Coran had taken his last few mornings to teach her, and she wasn’t about to let him say she wasn’t prepared for it. If that happened, it could get back to Allura, and Pidge didn’t want to think about the consequences of that.

“Good, good!” Coran stroked his mustache. “It seems that you really are a quick learner. Now you just have to get better at waking up in the morning--” Pidge groaned a little at the reminder, “--and you'll do swimmingly!”

The college student made a face at his outdated vocabulary, which went unnoticed as Coran wiped down the counter by the register.

One of the first things she had learned when she started working at Café Altea was that Allura liked to preserve the appearance of motion. Even when the shop wasn't busy, it was standard practice to find something to do, even if that meant pretending to wipe down an already spotless countertop. The way that Coran had easily slipped into the action proved that he, too, had that principle ingrained in him.

Allura was terrifying when she was disobeyed.

The chime above the door rattled then, and Pidge took a breath before lifting her head, smiling as widely as the early hour permitted, and greeted, “Good morning, and welcome to Café Altea!”

That moment marked the beginning of her roughest shift yet, because Coran held back and allowed Pidge to deal with the bulk of the morning rush on her own.

“That's a good hustle!” He remarked about halfway through as he bussed a nearby table. “That li e was about as large as a pack of yalmors, and you went through it well! Good show, Pidge!”

She had yet to ask what exactly a yalmor was, but she knew it was some sort of animal that had densely populated the former kingdom of Altea. Not much was known about it anymore, just that the country had been decimated by the Galran Empire nearly a hundred years ago. Altean survivors had scattered, and Pidge had long since suspected that the two who owned and operated Café Altea were descendants of those people.

She never asked for more details for the same reasons that she wasn't prodding her family for answers about their captivity.

* * *

 

Coran came forward to help clean up once the morning rush had ceased.

With a clap on her shoulder, he said, “You can handle yourself. Looks like we won’t have to worry about leaving the morning in your hands!”

“Feel free to come help out,” she drawled rolling her shoulders and wiping up a small spill beside one of the machines. “I’m sure I’d never turn down some assistance.”

Coran laughed and Pidge cracked a smile.

“Just this once, I’ll let you take a break now, and I’ll handle the front for now,” Coran suggested with a fatherly tone. “You’ve earned it, after all.”

The bathroom would be nice, Pidge mused, and she nodded. “Thanks, Coran.”

“Not a problem, not a problem!” he waved her away, and as she slipped into the back of the shop, she heard the door chime. She almost turned around to go help the assistant manager, but she heard him greet, “Welcome to Café Altea! How can I help you this morning?” and a few moments later, when a low voice had spoken, he said, “Ah, a café au lait? With our seasonal? Of course, of course, it’ll be but a few moments! Have a seat anywhere, and I’ll have it right out to you!” and she decided that he had it well under control.

So Pidge went about her business, and by the time she made it back out to the front, not even ten minutes later, Coran was already out wiping down a table and she didn’t see any new faces. The café au lait customer must have just picked up his coffee and left and she shrugged a little to herself. If he was a regular, she’d see him eventually. Or maybe she already had.

“Hey, Coran, I’m back,” she called, tugging her apron back over her head and securing her visor over her unruly hair. She already had hat hair and it was barely nine in the morning. _Great_.

“That wasn’t a very long break,” he remarked, slipping back up to the counter to hand her a tray to wash.

“I won’t really have the chance to take actual breaks when I start this shift tomorrow, so I don’t want to get used to them,” she explained, almost sheepishly, as she took the tray from him. “I just hope I never have to go to the bathroom during the morning rush. That would be _the worst_.”

Coran snorted.

“Let’s hope you never have to,” he agreed, flicking her visor. “And you have a good work ethic. Much better than Lance. _Quiznak_ , he gets on my nerves.”

 _Quiznak_ was another thing she had yet to ask the assistant manager about, but it was easy enough to understand that it was some form of curse or expletive. She didn’t really need to know much more than that, except perhaps to figure out exactly how it was used because she was ninety-nine percent sure that Lance had been using it incorrectly for _months_. After all, she’d seen Coran flinch one time when he overheard.

“Lance is just…” Pidge tried to think of a way to defend her friend. He really wasn’t horrible...but his work ethic could definitely use some improvement. If it weren’t for Allura’s wrath, he’d probably be perpetually late or sloppy or...she groaned and finished her sentence with, “...Lance?”

“He is indeed just _Lance,_ ” Coran snorted, amused.

“He’s not all bad?” Pidge suggested.

“No, no he’s not,” the older man agreed, patting her lightly on the shoulder. “He’s quite a good kid, and a great friend to both you and Hunk. He just needs to get his head out of the clouds a little more and focus on something other than flirting with our patrons.”

At that, the petite barista couldn’t suppress her snort. It was true that Lance was an outrageous flirt, and in all the years she’d known him, she was about the only woman safe from his advances. They had met right after she’d gotten a haircut because she’d accidentally burned a chunk of hair off in an experiment when she was fourteen, though, so he’d mistaken her for a boy at first. Though, just lately she’d been noticing that not all guys were safe from his advances, either.

“We’ve tried to stop him,” Pidge shrugged as she finally spoke again. “It doesn’t help, so we decided to let the boyfriends of whoever he hits on to prove the point.”

Coran hummed in acknowledgement, his mustache twitching with what was undoubtedly a hidden smile.

The few stragglers of the morning rush started coming in, spaced at odd intervals, and Pidge once more busied herself with making horrifically sugary and caffeinated beverages for them all. Some of them looked much more awake than others, and she completely understood the one student who came in, a bag full of books at his side as he mumbled about a dissertation and ordered a triple shot espresso.

* * *

 

As she prepared herself for her first day as the solo opener, after three mornings of training with the assistant manager, Pidge sighed. It was one thing for her to be handling the rush alone, but it was quite another to get used to getting up before six in order to be able to function. At least she’d had Coran the last few days to keep her on her toes. This morning, however, the shop was almost too quiet and the thought of closing her eyes for a few seconds was incredibly tempting.

“Wake up, wake up,” she scolded herself a little, clapping her hands to her cheeks with a little more force than necessary. “Allura will _kill_ you if you fall asleep on the job, Pidge!”

That was an understatement. The glare that Café Altea’s owner had given Lance the one time he had dozed off on his break and had been four minutes late to clock back in had been one of the scariest expressions Pidge had ever seen on the usually cheerful woman’s face. She had made a mental note, right then and there, to avoid angering Allura _at all costs_...which Lance would know, as she had thrown him under the bus a time or two to avoid her wrath.

With that memory in mind, Pidge bounced on the balls of her feet, keeping herself in motion so that she wouldn’t succumb to the drowsiness that threatened.

The rush started at around a quarter to seven, usually, and the time was nigh. Pidge shook her head, attempting to rid herself of any residual nervousness, and went around to prepare as the assistant manager had taught her. She made sure everything was ready and then had to pretend that the counter wasn’t completely clean and made a show of wiping it down. Apparently, if a passerby saw an employee constantly in motion, they were more likely to consider stopping. Pidge wasn’t sure if she agreed with that theory, but she wasn’t about to argue with the rules that Allura had set for her shop.

And then, at approximately six forty-two, the bell above the door chimed and she schooled her expression into her best cheerful mask and greeted, “Welcome to Café Altea!”

* * *

 

After running in circles for the better part of two hours, Pidge was ready to be done. She’d pulled off the morning without a hitch, which was pretty incredible considering that at one point the line had stretched almost to the door. And after that, there had been a certain point where Pidge had cursed the fact that the morning rush was usually handled alone, because it seemed so much worse than the evening rush ever had. It was probably because it was her first day handling it solo, though, and she held out a tiny hope that it would get better.

She was pretty thankful that the morning rush had consisted primarily of polite, patient people, though. She hated dealing with impatient customers and, in fact, had usually been pulled aside by either Hunk or Lance when a customer became agitated. Angry patrons had always found it easier to yell at her because of her stature but were always quick to change their tune when the bulky Hunk or tall, lanky Lance stepped up to take their complaints.

Pidge scoffed a little. She was just as capable as either of them, but she acknowledged that her friends were just really, really protective.

As she continued about her work, pushing memories of the evening rush from her mind, she let herself relax. The morning rush was pretty much over, with only the occasional straggler traipsing in for their caffeinated sugar high of the morning. She was taking a few much needed moments to clean her counter space and work area, keeping an eye on the few people sitting out in the shop. One woman looked as if she was about ready to pack up and go, so Pidge would need to go bus the table pretty soon.

Pidge heard the bell above the door chime again and finished wiping her current spot on the counter before looking up and pulling her customer service smile into place.

The smile faltered almost instantly.

She had never been more thankful that the door was as far from the register as it could possibly get in this cozy little coffee shop, because she needed time to compose herself. Pidge couldn’t describe exactly what it was about this new customer that was throwing her for a loop.

Maybe it was the way he walked. He carried himself straight, like a soldier, which reminded her of the brave men in her family, but there was a sort of grace to it that mesmerized her. He had a defined jaw and a prominent scar across his nose, but those features couldn’t hold her as much as the sharp, piercing gaze that spoke in a language infinitely more important than words.

She had never been particularly attracted to or interested in anyone, so the feeling was quite new. But, as she watched him draw nearer, she was pretty certain it was attraction. As soon as she had laid eyes on the older gentleman, she felt her heart start pounding in her chest and she had to admit that he was the most handsome human specimen that she had seen in all her nineteen years. He was also the first to elicit the same reaction that she always had when she saw a robot of exceptional quality—a certain sort of stunned, reverent silence.

The young barista hadn’t even managed to force out the welcome slogan until he was nearly upon her, and then she nearly stumbled over her words as she blurted, “W-welcome to Café Altea! What can I help you with today?”

Pidge wanted to punch herself. Or hide behind the counter and pretend she wasn’t there. Neither option was plausible at this point, though, and she did her best to stay calm as he smiled and glanced up at the menu. The look was more cursory than anything, because he immediately turned back to look at her. It suddenly struck her, as their eyes met, how much taller he was. He towered at least a foot above her, though it wasn’t hard when she scarcely reached five-two.

“A regular café au lait, made with the seasonal special coffee blend, please,” his voice, when he finally spoke, was a rich baritone that sent heat creeping up the back of her neck.

She tapped the order into the register and somehow managed to voice the cost of his drink, and he smiled, nothing more than a little subdued grin really, as he handed over the bills. Pidge then beamed and assured him, “Your order will be right up, sir! You can wait wherever you like!”

Her smile had probably been manic, because she had no idea how to deal with whatever these emotions were. She’d never had to deal with _attraction_ before, after all, and it was slapping her across the face at work and she had to try to keep going through the motions even when she’d rather just stop and use logic to make her way through this new feeling. But as she tried to single-mindedly start grinding up the coffee beans, her mysteriously alluring customer had other thoughts.

“You look kind of familiar. Have we met somewhere before?” he peered at her curiously when she glanced up at him in surprise, and she turned her face away as quickly as she could without seeming rude. She missed the way his expression changed and how he made a face at his own statement, looking rather embarrassed.

“N-no, I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t remember you, and I'm usually pretty good with remembering people. And your face is really memorable—n-not just because of the scar or anything! I-I mean, uh,” oh, that had been a mistake and she couldn’t take it back, so she forged onwards. “I m-mean, you kind of walk like military, and I have family in the Garrison and I’m a student at the University, so you could have seen one of them because I’m often told that there’s a strong family resemblance? And the base is attached to the school, pretty much, so we may have crossed paths at some point if you’re actually military. But it’s, uh, nice to meet you? I’m—well, I go by Pidge.”

 _And I’m an idiot_ , she added silently. She had kind of rambled but she glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled sheepishly anyway before returning to her task and beginning the pourover for his drink.

“Pidge?” he questioned blankly. It was a weird name, sure, but it was a nickname she’d had since her days in the academy so she was quite used to it. Before she could tell him as much, though, he returned the favor, his tone becoming warm with the chuckle that escaped. “Nice to meet you then, Pidge. I’m Shiro.”

 


	2. Latte II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She dreamt of men with scars across their noses who walked like soldiers, and rich voices that reverberated in her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is relatively quick, considering that I still plan on prioritizing Lost and Found but...here you have it.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

 

 _Shiro_.

Pidge liked his name, and the way it easily rolled off the tongue. And she liked the way he’d continued speaking with her as she prepared his drink, casually and curiously, as if trying to figure out why she looked familiar. Maybe he was even trying to piece together the family resemblance, if indeed he was military and had seen her father and brother around the base. She had slowly lost her nervousness as she spoke to him, and had even been able to wave him off with a smile that wasn’t forced.

It had only been two days since she had first seen him, tall and proud in the doorway of Café Altea, and she found herself already wishing he’d come back.

She shook herself a little and returned to her tinkering, messing with the half-finished project on her desk. It was a prototype for a long-term personal invention she’d been working on. She had high hopes for it, and she wasn’t about to give up on five years of hard work. This was already her second model, since the first had used some borrowed ideas and some help from Matt and she didn’t like using that in her final version.

The Rover II would be _entirely_ her own design.

At the thought, Pidge spared a glance at the clock and then cursed, running a hand through her messy hair. She’d decided to work on Rover while she waited for it to dry after her shower, but time had eluded her and it was now nearly two in the morning. That wasn’t anything unusual for her, and normally she would stay up for a few more hours without realizing the time. It wasn’t a big deal...except for the fact that she now worked an early shift and had be be clocked into work in less than four hours.

“Shit,” she grumbled, pushing herself to her feet and returning the parts and pieces and schematics for the Rover II back to their designated places. She stretched her arms above her head and then sidled away from her desk before the urge to work on something else kept her there.

The thought of waking up in just over three hours just to get _ready_ for work was kind of daunting, but as she forced herself to climb under the covers, she reminded herself that she worked in a coffee shop. If she couldn’t keep herself going with a triple-shot espresso, despite cringing at the thought, then she was in trouble.

She dreamt of men with scars across their noses who walked like soldiers, and rich voices that reverberated in her mind.

* * *

 

Working the morning shift on around three hours of sleep was the definition of _rough_ , but Pidge was not about to be defeated by coffee.

The morning rush came and went and she was valiantly struggling through wiping down tables and cabinets and working on her fourth cup of plain coffee—because she was allowed as much plain coffee as she wanted while she worked, and she’d already used her one free concoction on the triple-espresso she’d promised herself the night before—and she was silently cursing her night owl tendencies. Despite her fatigue, though, she’d only messed up two orders in the endless stream of customers, and both of them had been nice about it. She’d fixed the error in a few short moments and had moved on.

Coffee. Concentrated sugar rush. Caffeine. Caffeine. Coffee. Concentrated sugar rush. Caffeine. Caffeine. Caffeine. Caffeine. Concentrated sugar rush. Coffee.

She finished bussing the tables and slipped back to wash some dishes when the chime above the door went off again.

“Welcome to Café Altea!” she said without looking up for a few moments, depositing the trays in the sink. And then she turned around, drying her hands, and felt the bottom of her stomach drop out.

He had a bag slung over one shoulder and looked like he’d had about as much sleep as Pidge, but it was the same face that had paraded through her mind as she slept the night before. When he saw her, the man named Shiro grinned.

“Morning, Pidge,” he greeted as he stepped up to the counter. She couldn’t help but smile back, and she felt a little rejuvenated as she stepped up to meet him across the register. “Been busy?”

“As busy as ever,” she laughed, placing her towel to the side as she finished drying her hands. “What can I get for you today, Shiro?”

He paused a moment to look at the menu, but just like last time she could tell he already knew what he wanted. And when he turned that slightly subdued grin back to her, he asked, “How about the same thing as last time? A regular café au lait, with the seasonal coffee blend.”

“Absolutely,” Pidge nodded, ringing the drink up. “That makes your total three dollars and thirty-seven cents!” As she spoke, Shiro silently handed over four ones, and Pidge counted out the sixty-three cents change to complete the transaction. “You can wait wherever you’d like, and I’ll have that out to you in a few minutes!”

“Thanks,” he nodded, and instead of standing and chatting with her this time, she watched out of the corner of her eye as he made his way to a table nearby. He slid his bag from his shoulder and she realized it was an old, worn out backpack.

Pidge shook her head and mentally scolded herself. As he started to take things out of his bag, she quickly averted her gaze and went back to making his drink. She wondered why he looked so tired, but she resisted the urge to take another look at him for now. It might not be anything big. Maybe he’d stayed up late watching TV, or reading, or even playing video games. But...maybe, if he was military, he’d had to fight the nightmares, like her father and brother had so many times since their return.

The thought made her glance over at him again.

His brow was furrowed a little as he pored over a paper in front of him, and he still looked tired, but she couldn’t tell what kind of tired it was. She didn’t know him well enough—she didn’t know him _at all_ , really, aside from his name—so she couldn’t tell if he was exhausted for something simple or whether the root of his sleeplessness rested deeper. Was it rooted somewhere in his mind, like the horrible flashbacks her brother sometimes had when he stayed over?

She turned to finish his drink, trying not to think on it too much. After all, Shiro was just a valued customer at Café Altea, and it wouldn’t do for her to pry into his life or his past. It didn’t matter how curious she was, it simply couldn’t be done.

Securing the lid over his cup, Pidge made sure that there were no newcomers while she’d been distracted and she slipped out from behind the counter to take his coffee to him. That was another one of the little things Allura liked for her employees to do, and in this case, Pidge relished the excuse to get nearer to him. Shiro was different from most of the people she knew, and her curiosity was of a sort that proved nearly insatiable when she was presented with a new challenge.

“One regular café au lait,” she piped up cheerfully from a slight distance.

He jumped a little, turning to face her with wide eyes before shaking his head a little and giving her a sheepish grin. It was a very similar reaction to one her brother had once given, and her suspicions about military background were only increasing. She dismissed the thought and continued to smile reassuringly at him. As she held out his drink, he took it with a soft grin and said, “Thank you, Pidge.”

“No problem. You look kinda busy today, huh?” she nodded to the papers—and then, completely on accident, caught the _GALAXY GARRISON UNIVERSITY_ header and the accompanying logo at the top corner. She tried to keep herself from speaking but the words tumbled forth anyway. “Oh, is that the University logo? Are you going there, or maybe you teach? _Shit,_ I didn’t mean—oh, scratch that, please don’t tell my boss I cussed at you and also I really, _really_ didn’t mean to be nosy—”

Shiro’s chuckle cut her off, and he assured her with a wave of his left hand, “No, no, it’s perfectly alright, Pidge. You’re right, though, these are some things from the University. They’ve given me a little bit of an extension for some... _extenuating_ circumstances, and now I’m filling out the health forms. I’m starting classes for the first time this semester.”

“Oh, really?” Pidge asked, raising an eyebrow. _Military_ , her mind hissed at her, but she laughed and continued, “I’m going into my second semester, same as my friends Hunk and Lance, but I’m in the third year electrical engineering and communication courses, since I tested out of the earlier ones.”

 _Shit, that sounds like bragging_ , she inwardly cursed.

“That’s impressive,” Shiro’s voice drew her attention, and his eyebrows were raised. “You must be pretty intelligent. It’s hard to test out of the Garrison’s courses. I think the last person to do it…” he paused, and Pidge felt heat rise to her cheeks.

The last person to do that…

“It was Matt Holt, right?” she supplied, grinning at him.

Shiro blinked, and then nodded. “Yeah, that’s exactly who it was. You really know your stuff, Pidge.”

 _Of course I do,_ she thought, _he’s my brother, after all_.

And she thought about telling him, but at the last minute she bit the thought back. If Shiro was military, he’d know the Holt family name. He would know that her father and her brother were both certified _geniuses_ , and she didn’t want to be put in their shadow. Not with _him_ , not yet.

“I admire him,” she blurted instead, and then smiled at the older man again. “He’s a great role model!”

“Yeah,” Shiro’s expression was hard to read, and it confused her a little, “yeah, he is.”

 _Do you know my brother_?

The thought skittered across her mind, but the bell chimed and she excused herself instead, leaving Shiro to his paperwork and his coffee as she greeted the woman that had just hurried through the door. One concentrated sugar rush with a dash of caffeine later, and the woman was bustling out with a rushed _thanks_ practically tossed over her shoulder. Pidge waved her out and then went to wipe up the counter.

She couldn’t help herself, though, and she caught herself constantly sneaking peeks over at Shiro. And though she was mortified to admit it, even to herself, it wasn’t entirely because she was a little curious about him starting at the university.

His profile as he calmly worked through the papers was aesthetically pleasing. Shiro had a sturdy jaw and a straight nose, marred only by the scar that crossed it, and Pidge would have been lying if she said she hadn’t stared for a few seconds several times. Each time, she had to shake herself and move once more, ears burning and praying that he’d been too engrossed in all of his papers to pay her any mind.

When a couple left with a cheerful farewell, Pidge was able to go to the opposite side of the store and managed not to look back at the handsome older man the entire time. It was a feat, considering that her attention span was especially short on only three hours of sleep. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it was harder for her to focus on her work with so little sleep under her belt, but so much easier to focus on someone so easy on the eyes.

 _Oh, quiznak_ , she thought to herself, not even caring whether or not she’d used the word correctly.

Pidge was very much the sort of girl who had never really seen the value in looks. She could tell when people were conventionally attractive, but she didn’t really pay much attention to it. Why should looks matter when there were people she could hold intelligent conversations with somewhere out there? When there were people who were a lot deeper than the skin they lived in? But...now she thought she understood those girls in her high school classes that had fawned on the athletic guys.

Maybe he wasn’t conventionally handsome, but Shiro definitely had some sort of allure. It was enough to keep distracting her, and she silently cursed him for it, although it was nice to have someone she could stare at for once. Everyone knew Lance was always staring at someone when he thought he had a minute to spare, and if she’d been working with Lance or Hunk like she used to, she would have been able to take a few more moments to watch Shiro.

The thought only made her curse under her breath. She didn’t _want_ to watch him, that was _creepy_. She was just...curious. Yes. She was curious about Shiro and about his scar and about his possible tenure in the military.

Pidge nodded to herself.

 _It’s just curiosity_.

When Shiro bid her goodbye just before her shift ended, she smiled and waved as if she hadn’t been distracted by him for the better part of the last hour and a half. She told herself that watching the way he walked as he left, tall and straight and proud, if a little fatigued, was purely because she was intrigued by him.

* * *

 

The next morning, he was back, around the same time as before. When he ordered, it became apparent that he was going to make a habit of ordering the same thing.

Or, rather, it seemed that Shiro had been a regular in the mornings since _before_ she had switched to that shift, and he wondered what had happened to Nyma, the previous barista. Pidge didn’t know much, just that Nyma and her boyfriend Rolo had gone on vacation somewhere and wouldn’t be back for a while.

She totally didn’t wonder why he cared about the previous barista.

“So you’re only going to be on this shift until she gets back?” he asked, raising a brow. He seemed genuinely interested, and she told herself that she _wasn’t_ hearing a slightly disappointed sound in his voice. That would be ridiculous—she was just a barista that gave him his morning fix. Like a dealer, only with less drugs and more caffeine. He wouldn’t be disappointed to find out that the coffee girl he just met might be leaving soon.

“This is actually my shift now,” she told him, smiling. Despite telling herself he wouldn’t actually be too upset if she were to leave soon, she felt happy to be telling him that. “Nyma doesn’t really like mornings anyway, and I have mostly afternoon and evening classes this semester, so I’m semi-permanent on this shift. At least until May.”

“Ah,” Shiro nodded, and then laughed a little. “At least I’ll know who’s giving me my morning coffee for a while, then!”

And then he admitted that he hadn’t even known Nyma’s name. And now that she thought about it, she’d introduced herself when they met. He might not have bothered to look at her nametag. Granted, Nyma wasn’t known for wearing her nametag like she was supposed to, but that didn’t mean much. One time was all it took, after all.

Pidge wasn’t sure whether to feel special that Shiro knew her name or whether his obliviousness meant that he didn’t particularly care who he got his coffee from.

Shiro came back each morning for a while and ordered the same thing as he had on his previous visits, but more often than not, he stayed at the counter to chat with Pidge as she made his drink. She wondered briefly if he was so friendly with her because she looked kind of familiar, but she was determined to earn his friendship on her own merit, and did her best to just be herself.

In those conversations, she learned that he was considering some sort of history degree, though he wasn’t sure what he’d do with it. He thought he might teach, and after giving him a calculating look, Pidge told him that she thought he’d make a great teacher.

She didn’t tell him that he’d make a nice place to look or that he might distract his students, because she _totally_ didn’t have that thought for a split second.

And she found herself telling him that she wanted to follow in her family’s footsteps. She wanted to do some tech work for the Galaxy Garrison and the military. Again, without really understanding why, she avoided outright mentioning who her father and brother were, opting instead to just say they had made a pretty decent living in their fields.

She even mentioned that she had a long-term personal project for a drone that she thought could be useful, though she didn’t give details. You could never be too sure who was listening, after all, and while she tried not to be paranoid, the Rover Project was also her baby and one of her best kept secrets. Even Hunk and Lance had barely seen it, and Lance only because he’d been around when Pidge asked Hunk for advice.

The fourth straight morning he came in, he had someone that Pidge recognized with him. After a few moments, she finally found the name in the archive of her mind.

 _Keith Kogane_.

The pilot that Lance was constantly grousing about, who had beaten Lance in every test they’d had, and who seemed to barely realize that Lance existed. Except, of course, for those times when Lance had ended up challenging him to stupid duels or starting arguments.

Lance always lost, and it was always fun for Pidge to watch. Hunk was a lot more sympathetic, but Pidge always told their obnoxious friend that it was entirely his fault. He pouted and complained but in the end he always did it again. She always assumed that it was because Lance just liked trying to rile Keith up, though she couldn’t decide exactly why.

The only thing that Lance had going was that he didn’t have constant disciplinary issues. Keith was currently on probation for getting in a few too many fistfights in the last few years of high school. And he rarely got along with teams, so they actually had him training in the solo program. Despite all of his records, he’d still been allowed to remain with the university and the Garrison, pending improvements in his attitude and behavior.

When his eyes lit upon the barista, there was a flicker of recognition.

“Hey Keith, Shiro. Welcome to Café Altea!” she offered, grinning. While Lance had some kind of problem with Keith, Pidge had never had a strong opinion one way or the other. He seemed to like to be alone, and she could respect that, so she stayed out of his way. “What can I get you guys this morning?”

Shiro, after casting a surprised glance between the two, as if wondering how they knew each other, asked for his usual, and turned to Keith.

“C’mon, whatever you want,” the older man nudged him. In the back of her mind, she wondered how _they_ knew each other, because she’d never seen Keith really get along with anyone else. If he’d voluntarily come here with Shiro, though, there had to be some kind of history.

She _really_ wanted to find out, but bit her lip. Prodding wasn’t something she should be doing at work, after all, and she’d been in some kind of hairy spots in the past for hacking into the Garrison’s files. Pidge still appreciated whatever Matt did to her computer to make it nearly untraceable when he realized what she’d been doing...and when he found out that she’d been caught a few times. And sure, he’d scolded her, but she could recognize the barely concealed pride in her brother’s tone no matter how he tried to hide it. In a show of respect to him, though, she had also decided not to pry as much when she could avoid it.

 _That_ would certainly put a damper on the Holt family name, after all.

“Just a large coffee,” Keith finally sighed. “I can pay for it myself, Shiro, I’m not a kid anymore.”

Shiro laughed and handed Pidge a ten before she had even read out the price, “I know you’re not a kid anymore, Keith, but can’t I just do something nice?”

Keith groaned, but Pidge felt a jolt of surprise when she recognized the way he was acting. It was almost like Shiro was an older brother, because this was exactly the way she and Matt acted around each other. It kind of warmed her a little to know that Shiro had someone like that. She wasn’t quite sure why she felt so relieved that he wasn’t completely alone.

“Four sixty-eight is your change,” she couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll get your drinks right to you.”

As she turned to pour Keith’s coffee, she heard him ask behind her, “You still in that idiot Lance’s group?”

 _So you do know who Lance is,_ she thought, amused. If Lance knew that, he would never let it rest. He’d probably consider it as acknowledgement of their rivalry or something equally as ridiculous, so she made a mental note not to mention it. It was more fun watching him fret anyway.

“Part of the worst team the training program has ever seen,” Pidge used a falsely cheery voice as she clipped his lid into place. She turned to hand it to him and continued with a dry laugh, “All the other teams work great together now. They’re not about to pick us apart in the hopes that we magically get better in some other team. And it’s not like we don’t get along? We just...aren’t that good at working as a team.”

Keith took his coffee from her, looking thoughtful, and then remarked, “It’s because you guys won’t settle on a leader.”

“Normally you put the pilot in charge just on principle, but you’ve seen Lance. It’s hard to put ourselves in his hands, no matter how great a friend he is.”

He snorted and agreed, “I can see that.”

Pidge laughed and turned to start Shiro’s usual café au lait.

“Wait, so how long have you guys known each other?” Shiro’s warm voice entered the lull in conversation. “You sound like you know each other pretty well. Same classes?”

“We were in the same training course all through school. Even though they kept me in lower grades because of my age, they put me through the advanced Garrison regimens because of _this_ ,” Pidge explained, tapping her head, then laughed. “It would have almost been easier for them to move me up a few grades, but for some reason Iverson wasn’t really into that.”

“You hacked the Garrison four times when you were fourteen,” Keith’s voice was completely deadpan. “Of course they didn’t trust you enough to let you skip grades and get access to higher level information.”

“Wait, Pidge did _what_?” Shiro asked blankly, and when she glanced over at him he looked shocked. “You’re lucky they didn’t arrest you for something like that, Pidge.”

“Hey! They only _caught_ me four times, you mean. And Keith, you fail to realize that one of the times I hacked in, I saw that you were sneaking around and disabled the camera feeds. _And_ erased some of the footage so they wouldn’t know you were there,” Pidge paused in sudden realization. “Come to think of it, I never bothered to ask what you were doing there, but it’s been years so I guess it doesn’t really matter. What’s done is done, yeah?”

Keith cleared his throat awkwardly and as Pidge turned to face them, Shiro’s order in her hand, she saw the mildly disapproving look that the older man was alternating between the two younger people. _Oops_.

“So... _both_ of you could have been completely expelled _years_ ago, but somehow you haven’t been,” he observed. Pidge grinned sheepishly as she handed over his drink, noting how Keith tried to avoid looking at his friend entirely. Shiro took the cup from her, but gave her a calculating look and then sighed. “Kids these days.”

“Hey,” Keith elbowed him slightly, and Shiro snorted, a grin finally showing on his features. “You’re not _that_ much older than I am.”

“Well, it’s at least nice to see that you get along with someone instead of fighting all the time,” Shiro sobered up a little, reaching out to grasp Keith’s shoulder in a brotherly grip as he continued, “It’s a shame you two weren’t in the same team, huh? Maybe you’d have learned to play nice.”

“This is the first time we’ve actually spoken,” Keith mumbled, almost shyly, and when Shiro raised a surprised brow and looked at Pidge, she shrugged.

“It’s true,” she offered. “Though it’s hard to get a word in edgewise when my pilot is always challenging him to a duel. Or a race. Or something equally ridiculous that he will, inevitably, lose.”

Despite everything, she loved Lance like a brother. Really, she did...but teasing him was always so much fun. And even though her delivery had been a little sarcastic, she was being entirely honest. She would have said any of that straight to his face, too, so it wasn’t like she was talking behind his back. He knew she thought his ‘rivalry’ was ridiculous.

Keith chuckled though, nodding in agreement. And then he surprised Pidge by adding, “That’s also true. But it’s nice, sometimes. Everyone else seems kind of scared of me, but Lance just goes straight for it. It’s refreshing to have someone actually willing to talk to me, even if it is for a stupid dare. But don’t _ever_ tell him I said that, or he’ll never leave me the hell alone.”

At this, Pidge laughed, and then she held out her hand on impulse. When Keith reached forward to shake her hand, she said, “Deal. I don’t think I could handle him starting any more useless arguments than usual, as it is.”

Shiro watched them with a curious gaze, and Pidge kind of fidgeted under it when she noticed. It made her ears burn a little, but she dismissed it and turned back to her classmate.

“We’ll talk about that time you saw me in the Garrison later, ‘kay?” Keith suggested in a low voice, glancing at Shiro in a way that told her he didn’t want to do it in front of the older man. She raised a brow but nodded, giving a lopsided grin in response.

“Yeah, let’s.”

Pidge hadn’t been wholly prepared for the soft smile that Keith graced her with then. She’d seen him laugh a time or two at some of Lance’s most spectacular fails, but she’d never seen him just smile before. While Pidge wasn’t exactly a people person, it was nice to see that there were more sides to the loner of their training class than met the eye. And, admittedly, it was great to know something about Lance’s ‘rival’ that Lance himself didn’t even know.

“Someday, I’ll have to hear the reasons _why_ you two decided to try and get yourselves _arrested_ ,” Shiro drawled sarcastically as he made his way to what Pidge had deemed his usual table. “Apparently that day is not today, but someday.”

“You can try,” Keith said.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Pidge agreed.

The three shared a laugh, and then the petite barista went back to work, enjoying the soft hum of Shiro’s voice as he talked with Keith in the background.


	3. Latte III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Pidge heard the chair next to her pull out and felt the soft thump of someone putting their bag or books or something on the table next to her, she sat up and glanced over. She nearly froze at the sight, but her new table partner didn’t even notice as he rummaged through his bag for a few papers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> For some reason, it was so hard to write this chapter. It took me almost four days to write the first 2000 words, but the rest of them all came today. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you guys for reading and I hope you enjoy!

 

The first day of classes dawned early for the petite barista in charge of the morning shift. With a long, exasperated groan, she slammed her hand down on the screeching alarm, cursing the flashing _5:25 AM_ with every fiber of her being. She’d nearly slept through her later alarms a few days before and had scrambled to get to work on time, so she had set earlier alarms...and several. There had been an alarm every five minutes since five o’clock, in addition to the few accidental snoozes she had thrown in.

Grumbling, Pidge pulled herself into a sitting position, running her fingers through her short, tangled hair.

“Stupid coffee shop and stupid morning shift and stupid late classes and— _classes_ ,” she paused, eyes flicking to the date on her alarm clock’s display. With another groan, she realized aloud, “It’s the first day of _classes_.”

That made waking up so ridiculously early even _better_ , because after her shift, she’d have to grab a quick lunch in the hour between work and her advanced engineering course at noon. And when that ended at three, since it was a lecture followed immediately by a lab, she’d have an hour of Calculus II. She’d get a brief break then, where she’d probably grab a snack and an energy drink, and prepare for her mandatory history class at five. The class didn’t end until _eight_ , and Pidge knew she was going to be positively wiped by the end of the day.

She _prayed_ that there was no homework, because she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stay up much past ten tonight.

The clock ticked over to _5:30 AM_ and another alarm started blaring, and Pidge wanted to bury her head beneath her pillow. Instead, she reached over to shut the damn thing off and disable the next three alarms before groaning again and dropping her feet over the edge of her bed.

Mornings would probably never be her favorite thing.

In fact, she thought to herself, the only good thing about these morning was whatever fledgling friendship was brewing between her and Shiro. Since she’d started her morning shift just a week and a half ago, he’d only been absent three times. And each time he showed up, he was willing to greet her and usually have some sort of small conversation, which was great after the horrible monotony of the morning rush. And even on his off days, when she could see the bags under his eyes and that the same signs of nightmares and repressed memories she saw in her brother had reared their ugly heads, he was always kind to her. And when she made sure to speak up or announce her presence so she didn’t surprise him, he always looked vaguely relieved. She wondered if he knew that she had picked up on some of the signs, but she never asked.

The thought of his tender smile made it just a little easier for her to pull herself out of bed and get ready for the day.

When Pidge got to work and started opening up, though, that ease faded. She took a cup of coffee, let out a groan before customers started pouring in, and the thought of Shiro slowly faded from her mind. Her focus shifted to making sure that everything was ready and warily eyeing the clock as the morning rush drew nearer.

Nervous couldn’t even _begin_ to cover how she felt this morning. It was the first day of classes for the spring semester, and she had no idea what the rush would be like. _Café Altea_ was relatively close to campus and, in Pidge’s probably biased opinion, lightyears better than the on campus coffee shop. Did that mean other students knew it, too? And if they did, would they be coming and adding to her usual morning rush? Extending it?

How was she supposed to survive work _and_ class if a thousand groggy college students were dragging their feet into the shop to get their morning boost and making her morning rush longer than ever?

 _Calm down, Katie_ , she told herself firmly, straightening her spine and rolling her shoulders. The rush could start at any minute now, and she needed to be ready. _Everything will be fine. You’re perfectly capable of handling this, and most of the shop’s patrons are super nice. Just make coffee and smile and take the money people are wasting on their cups of concentrated sugar and do what you’ve been doing for the last week._

With a deep breath, she reached to take a sip of her coffee, placing it out of sight and running one last check to make sure everything was ready for the rush. The early birds had come and gone, and now Pidge just had to _wait_. She busied herself by wiping down the countertop for the fourth time that morning, making sure that all the tables looked presentable, and when she turned around to make sure that the pot of coffee was still fresh, she heard the door chime.

A couple of loud voices sounded, and she glanced up to see a few girls, probably college students, stepping in.

The clock only showed _6:47 AM_ , and Pidge decided that they had no right to be so cheerful. But she pushed her mild annoyance aside and hitched her customer service grin into place, an act that had definitely become second nature.

“Welcome to _Café Altea_! What can I get you this morning?”

* * *

 

Pidge had never been more thankful for the end of a morning rush. Granted, she had only been working that shift for just over a week, but this was the first day that included the influx of drowsy college students, dragging themselves out and about for their early classes. A few faces were familiar from last semester, both from her classes or from their visits while she and the others worked the night shifts at the coffee shop, but there were also others that she felt like she hadn’t seen before.

Rush hour wasn’t the time to make new friends, though, and she found herself craving some conversation that wasn’t, “Would you like whipped cream on that?”

It wasn’t the first time that Pidge missed working with Lance or Hunk, and she was sure it wouldn’t be the last, but she couldn’t help the desire to have one of them here, chatting with her while she worked. And on that thought...why the hell was the morning shift only manned by one person? It was at _least_ as busy as the night shifts they’d worked, if not even worse. And she only imagined the situation becoming more and more dire as the semester progressed.

 _Why did I agree to this?_ she whined internally, glancing out across the floor. There were customers sprawled in two of the armchairs on one side of the door, students by the looks of them, and an older woman at one of the two small tables. Along the wall with the most windows, one of four tables was taken by a giggling group of girls—also probably college students—and in the middle of the floor, two men were discussing a stack of papers between them over their coffees. Four of the other tables had been occupied and vacated while she’d been busy with the rush, though, so she glanced to the door to make sure no one was approaching before slipping out to wipe down the tables.

She’d successfully finished that task, and had moved to clean another table that was vacated while she worked, before the door chimed again.

Pidge glanced up from her work to make sure that it wasn’t just someone leaving before she delivered the customary greeting. As she looked, though, she spotted a familiar tall, broad form stepping inside, and she felt a grin spread across her cheeks.

“Hunk!” she beamed, and he glanced over as she finished wiping the table. And then, teasing, she delivered the usual line anyway. “Welcome to _Café Altea_! What can I get you today?”

They both made a beeline toward the counter, and Hunk gave her a one-armed hug that she actually returned before slipping behind the register.

“Hey, Pidge,” he greeted, laughing. “I’ve got my mechanical engineering class in like, thirty minutes, and I’m still reading some of the preparatory texts, so can you just get me like, a caramel macchiato? It’s quick and easy and I kinda want to get a good seat because I heard that the professor gets really good guest speakers throughout the semester, man. Like, what would I do if they got, I dunno, _your dad_ or someone to come speak? I think I’d _die_ if I wasn’t in the first three rows, Pidge!”

“I got it, Hunk, I got it,” Pidge laughed, punching in the price and keying in the employee discount code. “If you wanna meet Dad that badly, I can bring him by the shop next time he visits, you know.”

“ _Oh my God, Pidge, is this real life?_ ” Hunk’s words were strung together so that they were almost one word, and he grabbed her hand as she tried to finish the transaction on the register. She sighed a little and switched hands as he continued, “Would you really, _really_ do that the next time they come up? I mean, you _totally_ don’t have to, but your dad’s books on some of the ancient Altean tech we’ve studied and that research on Galra tech and—holy crow, Pidge, I might _faint_ if I meet your dad. What would I do if I fainted in front of him? He’s like, my _hero_! On second thought, maybe you _shouldn’t_ bring him by next time they’re up—”

“Your total is three dollars and seventeen cents,” Pidge couldn’t help the amused quirk of her lips as Hunk shoved the crumpled five dollar bill at her and continued rambling.

“—would be _so embarrassing_. I don’t think I’d survive if he saw me get nervous, Pidge! I mean, meeting your _brother_ was bad enough. I spilled coffee all over the counter!”

“Hunk, calm down,” Pidge laughed, forcing his change into his hand. “They’re just people, like us.”

“ _Just people like us—_ ” Hunk adopted a high-pitched voice to imitate her for a moment, and she groaned. He continued, “— _yeah_ , right! Your entire family is full of _geniuses_ , Pidge! Your brother is the youngest graduate of the University in _history_ at the age of nineteen—seriously, how did he _do_ that?!—and your dad is one of the most quoted authorities on the tech that we’ve seen from other countries. You’re in third level engineering courses and it’s only your _first year_ at the university. Is there anything your family _can’t_ do?”

“We can’t read your preparatory mechanical engineering texts for you,” Pidge said dryly, slipping back to make his drink. “Besides, what do you _mean_ you’re still reading the intro stuff? Didn’t you tell me you finished with it two weeks ago?”

“Of course! But I had to go back through, because some of the author’s theories on—”

“I don’t care, Hunk,” Pidge snorted, “but you’ve already answered my question. Why are you reading it again if you’ve already read it?”

“I was _telling_ you that!” he sounded slightly exasperated. “The author has some great theories and honestly, Pidge, there are some brief parts on electrical engineering I think you’d really dig if you read the book. I’ll mark some of the pages and let you read over it while we study sometime, how’s that?”

Pidge made a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat, but she knew she’d probably end up reading those parts of his book...and probably more. She had to take the basics of mechanical engineering, too, after all. And, surprisingly, Hunk’s textbook was one of the few that she hadn’t read from her father’s bookshelf when she was younger. By the time her father and brother had gone missing, Pidge had already far surpassed her grade’s reading and coursework requirements. Even her honors coursework and advanced placement hadn’t been enough to keep her mind occupied, so she had ended up casually paging through some of Lance’s barely touched textbooks when they all studied together.

Because of her... _misconduct_ , also known as _hacking into military files in order to try to find her family_ , the Garrison had ended the consideration to move her up a few grades, but they did let her proceed with her upper level military training. Her consolation for not moving forward in school was that she still had plenty of access to her teammates and their upper level reading materials, so by the time she reached those grades herself, she was more than ready.

“Seriously, I think you’d get a kick out of it,” Hunk insisted as she passed him his drink, after tuning out most of his raving over the good points of the text. “The dude goes as far back as some of Tesla’s stuff, and like, alchemic ideas. I don’t know _where_ he got the idea to combine all of that into mechanics, but hey. Whatever works! Oh, thanks Pidge.”

“No problem. Now get to class so you can get yourself a good seat, yeah?”

“Oh, you’re right!” His eyes widened, almost comically, and she realized that he’d already forgotten his goal. “I need to be up there in case the professor gets some really crazy guest speakers this year! I heard in the past they had that one star pilot come in to talk about working with the engineer in a team. Man, I can’t remember his name right now, but he came out top of his class in the academy like ten years ago and went _straight_ into the military. I heard he climbed the ranks really fast, too! Lance would _kill_ to meet that guy, you know?”

With a laugh, she retorted, “Then if he comes to talk to that class again this year, you’d better make sure to keep it a secret from Lance, or else he’ll skip his classes to sneak into that lecture.”

Hunk laughed, a rich sound that made warmth bubble in her stomach. Hunk’s laughs were always so _contagious_. But he waved at her and said, “You’re definitely right about Lance, that’s for sure. And thanks again, Pidge! We’ll talk more later!”

“Sure thing, Hunk,” she grinned, high fiving him as turned to leave. “See ya!”

“Later!”

As her friend left, she chuckled quietly at his antics. Hunk was a great guy, her best friend hands down, but he was just so rambly sometimes, and often distracted himself when he got on a roll. With a sigh, she glanced back around the shop and noted that all her customers were still sitting around. She turned to wiping down her countertops then, running through some of Hunk’s rambles in her mind to try to pick out parts she might have missed.

Just because he was her best friend didn’t mean that Pidge listened to absolutely _everything_ he said, after all.

A few people trickled in over the next thirty minutes, at the tail end of the rush, and Pidge made their drinks and watched nearly all of them leave, as well as some of the customers that had already been in the shop for a while. She wiped down the tables and poured herself some more coffee, her third cup, and prayed that there wasn’t a second rush before the next set of classes. That was _all_ she needed today, on top of being in class late.

Every time the chime went off, though, Pidge started to fear it would be another rush. Coran hadn’t _said_ anything about a second wave during University sessions, but she also hadn’t asked him. And while the assistant manager was fairly thorough, he was more easily sidetracked than Hunk.

As she handed out another ridiculously sugary drink and bid the girl who bought it farewell, the bell above the door rang again. Pidge took a quick drink of her own coffee and rolled her shoulders, taking a breath before looking up to speak to the newcomer.

When she spotted a familiar tuft of white hair and that distinctive scar, Pidge felt warmth build in her chest. This time, her customer service smile wasn’t fake but friendly as she greeted the older man with, “Welcome back, Shiro. Same thing as usual this morning?”

He blinked a little, surprised, and then gave her a tender smile and asked, a hint of a joke in his tone, “Whatever gave you that idea?” even as he slid the money over the counter. Exact change, today.

Pidge laughed and punched the numbers in, quipping back, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I just read your mind or something?”

“That’s obviously the logical answer,” he nodded sagely, but Pidge spotted the twitching at the corner of his lips, and she laughed a little as she handed him a receipt.

“Of course it is! I have always been a bit of a psychic,” she quirked a brow in jest, then stepped back and announced, “Anyway, it is the café au lait with the seasonal blend that you were wanting, right? I mean, you handed me exact change and everything, and I just kind of assumed—”

“Yeah,” Shiro nodded, shoving the receipt into his front pocket. “I don’t really do sweet drinks.”

“Me either,” Pidge laughed, stepping back from the counter. “I’ve always been kind of partial to plainer ones, too. Anyway, you know the drill! You can either stay up here and wait or find yourself a table. Whatever suits you!”

“I’ve got to grab and go today,” he sounded genuinely apologetic, “so I’ll just wait up here.”

“Not a problem!”

She said it cheerfully, but Pidge found herself wishing he could stay just a little while longer. He was polite and fun to talk to, which was a lot more than she could say for some of her customers. And when she actually found herself looking at him, she kind of understood why Lance would sometimes stare at pretty women. But she wouldn’t let herself look like a complete idiot just because someone was _attractive_. That was, and would forever be, Lance’s one true calling, and she’d let him keep it.

“Do you have any classes today?” his warm voice inquired from behind as she started his drink. “That’s why I can’t stick around for too long this morning. I have my first class at ten.”

“Mine are in the afternoon,” she supplied, tossing a grin at him over her shoulder. “First one’s at noon. That one engineering course I was telling you about the other day. And what’s the first class of your entire college career gonna be, Shiro?”

“A class I’m going to _regret_ ,” he replied easily, laughing. “Some sort of match class. I haven’t had a math class in ten years. I’ll be lucky to make it through the first _week_.”

“I’m sure it won’t be _that_ bad,” Pidge tried optimism. It was fairly new for her and her delivery was probably terrible, but she at least tried. “And there’s a tutoring system in place? I think I might be on the list to help for some of those classes? Not sure anymore. But just talk to your professor if you fall behind, and they’ll be able to set you up with a tutor. If it wasn’t for me and Hunk, our friend Lance would have flunked out of his math class by week four, but that’s just because he was too busy staring at the apparent babe that sat in front of him? Or so he claimed.”

Shiro’s soft chuckle made her grin to herself, and she was thankful her back was turned.

“Really, Lance is just bad at math. He’s not _stupid_ , but he could definitely learn to use his time more wisely. When we tutored him, he picked it up pretty quickly,” she shrugged a little, putting a lid on Shiro’s drink. With a bit of a sad twinge in her stomach, she knew that as soon as she passed the drink over, he’d be heading off to class. “So basically, as long as you apply yourself, you should be fine, and if you need any help, ask the professor about tutors!”

“I’ll remember that,” he reached out to take the cup Pidge handed him. “Thanks a lot, Pidge.”

“It’s nothing,” she flapped a hand at him, her grin wider than probably necessary. “Anything to help another freshman,” her tone was light and teasing, and it kept the grin on his face. She was extremely proud of that, because there was just something soothing about his smile.

“See you later then, Pidge,” he gave a nod as he prepared to leave, coffee in hand.

“Hope your first day of classes goes okay,” she offered, waving back at him. “See you around!”

* * *

 

Most people expected to go over the syllabus in the advanced engineering class.

Pidge, however, was right in suspecting that the professor, an old colleague of her father, actually, would want them to have read the syllabus and would be questioning them on some of the aims of the course. She was one of maybe four students that was fully prepared for that. About half of the class appeared to have skimmed the course schedule, but some of the others learned the hard way that Professor Montgomery didn’t tolerate lax behavior. He also didn’t believe in being _unfair_ , however, and the entire class was assigned the first chapter of reading for next class.

From _there_ , he proceeded into a _lecture_. On the first day of class, a lecture.

And after that, Pidge had to go through a lab that almost directly mimicked a process she had used in that one project last semester. Creating a schematic for rewiring a Galran prosthetic arm had taken some brainpower, but she was pretty damn proud of the plans and the mock-up she had come up with in the short time they’d been given.

Professor Montgomery didn’t seem to believe that she was done so quickly, though, and made a show in front of the entire class of examining her work. The older students, ones who had been in classes with her before, looked on curiously. Some of them looked smug, but Pidge knew that their expressions would change because she was entirely confident in her abilities. And when the balding professor finally pulled back, lips pursed, and offered her, “Congratulations, Miss Holt. This must be the fastest anyone has ever completed this lab,” she felt pride surge through her.

 _Take that,_ she thought. She didn’t know whose face she was shoving her victory in, but she didn’t particularly care.

Unfortunately, Professor Montgomery also didn’t believe in allowing people to leave early, so he gave her another project with slightly more difficult parameters to work on. From the look on his face, he didn’t think that she would be at all capable of completing it before the lab ended.

She had fifteen minutes to spare after another show of checking her work. She could feel him scowling, but remembered her father’s words. _If Montgomery ever scowls at you, Katie, it means he’s impressed. Never be discouraged by that face, not on him_.

And so she held her head high as she made her way to her calculus class.

* * *

 

Calculus had passed in a blur. Nothing had really been new, so she had spent most of the class idly penning a few notes between working on some wiring ideas for the Rover II. A little of the second project she’d been assigned in lab had opened an idea for a new way to organize the wiring, and she wanted to work through the possibilities before she gave it a try on the actual prototype.

By the end of the math class, she had three different ideas, one of them crossed out because it would have been unstable, and was starting to feel peckish.

On her way to her last class of the day, she stopped by the campus convenience store to pick up a snack. She ended up with a bag of chips, an apple, and a soda, and paused on a bench in one of the University’s courtyards to check her phone while she ate.

She smiled when she saw that Matt had already sent her a text.

_How are classes going, Sis?_

She pulled up the reply box and typed one-handed, _Boring so far!_ and clicked _SEND_.

While she waited on his reply, which would probably be quick, she saw that she had four messages from Lance. On the first day back at classes, it could only be two things: he already knew he was going to bomb a course, or he’d seen a hot babe in his class and had to brag about it.

She opened the thread and found two covert, in-class photos of the girl three seats away from where Lance had apparently been sitting.

 _Damn! She’s hotttttt!_ his first text read, followed by, _Shit, Hunk, I didn’t get the notes. Can I borrow yours?_

A glance proved that he’d sent it in a group message and she rolled her eyes, wondering if that was from _their_ history class. But before she could deign to reply, her phone buzzed softly in her hand, and she saw _MATT_ scroll across the top of her screen.

He’d sent her an unamused selfie, and then asked, _Katie, aren’t you in classes that are way advanced for your age?_ _How are you bored?_

She snorted and responded, _Couldn’t I ask the same thing about when you went here, Mr. I-Graduated-From-Garrison-U-at-19?_

As she finished her apple and moved to her chips, he responded, _Touché, little sister, touché._

A few seconds later, he also said, _Just don’t let it bore you too much. It is YOUR fault they wouldn’t move you up any grades, after all_.

 _Hush,_ she typed back, rolling her eyes.

_It’s the truth!_

_Yeah. And it means I can’t beat your record as the youngest grad! :(_

_You totally would have beat me, too, Katie._

Pidge paused before answering, frowning a little. And finally she decided to reply, _It would have taken a lot of work, and I’m kind of lazy. I’m not so sure._

_Don’t make me laugh, brat!_

She laughed aloud, but noticed that class was in about twenty minutes and tapped out a quick, _My last class starts soon. I’ll text you when I get home!_

Pidge stowed her phone away, crumpling the empty chip bag in her hand and pulling herself to her feet. And then she made her way to the lecture hall for her required history class after pausing to throw away her trash. Apparently, there wasn’t a class during this hour, so she slipped inside and took a seat, pulling out the textbook and a few papers.

She pored over the syllabus she’d printed off the night before and found herself actually, although begrudgingly, intrigued. The class was HIS145: The Rise and Fall of Empires, and it was heavily focused on the now nonexistent Kingdom of Altea and the reason for its downfall, the Galra Empire. After having nearly lost her father and brother to the influence of that particular civilization, which was still going strong, Pidge couldn’t help but have a slight curiosity as to how it came to be, and also how it came to destroy the strongest kingdom of the last thousand years.

She ignored the bustle as other students started to file in around her. The seats nearest her were mostly ignored, but that didn’t really matter to her. People were trying to save room for their friends, which she could relate to. She would have done the same if her own had been in the same class.

A quick glance at the time showed that she had about ten minutes before the lesson would begin, and she glanced back to the papers in front of her.

There was a fairly intensive pairs project that she was intrigued by, but she couldn’t find much information about it. She did find that the pairs would be assigned, though, and with a quick glance around the people present, she grimaced. It was a required course for those who were heading into the military from the University, or were planning on it, but unfortunately Lance and Hunk were in a different session. And the likelihood that they would have been paired together was already slim, considering their track record with the training exercises. So Pidge would have to work with a complete stranger...and half the time that entailed her doing most of the work.

She groaned aloud, resting her head in her hands for a few seconds.

When Pidge heard the chair next to her pull out and felt the soft thump of someone putting their bag or books or _something_ on the table next to her, she sat up and glanced over. She nearly froze at the sight, but her new table partner didn’t even notice as he rummaged through his bag for a few papers.

“Sh-Shiro?” her voice surprised even her. She hadn’t meant to speak up, but he jumped a little and turned, sitting up straighter in surprise before a grin slowly crossed his features.

“Pidge,” he greeted her with a chuckle. “Wow. I didn’t think I’d see you in here.”

She bit back the _I’m the one that’s more shocked to see you here_! in favor of smiling back and saying, “Surprise?” with a shy wave. And then she added, as an afterthought, “It’s a small world, huh?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, but she saw the way his shoulders relaxed a little. She hadn’t meant to set him on edge by addressing him so suddenly, but it was nice to know that he felt like he could relax around her. “So I take it you’re going to follow your family into the Garrison, since you’re here?”

For a split second, she wondered how on earth he knew that, but then she remembered that it had been part of one of their first conversations...no, it had been their first. He’d probably seen her family resemblance, especially if he’d been a soldier alongside her brother and father like she had suspected all along. It’s why he’d asked if they had met before.

Pidge laughed a little, slightly more breathless than usual because of her momentary panic, and responded, “Yup, that’s exactly it! If I can get some military research grants for my inventions, I’ll be set for life, y’know?”

She topped it off with a wink and then cursed internally.

 _I’ve been hanging out with Lance way too much, haven’t I_? she asked herself, but the laughter from her companion calmed her.

“Whatever motivates you, I guess,” he shrugged, then looked at her with a kind of calculating stare. _That_ was new. And then he asked, a genuinely curious but also slightly disapproving tone in his voice, “Speaking of motivations...I don’t suppose you’d like to share your reasons for hacking into the Garrison when you were fourteen?”

It was the first time he’d brought it up since their discussion with Keith that one morning, and she groaned.

“I’d much rather not,” she answered.

 _I hacked in to find the truth about my family_ , she’d have to answer. And then she’d have to outright ask, _Do you know them? A couple robotics and comm specialists by the name of Sam and Matt Holt._

Holt was a common enough name that she might not have to worry about people finding out, and she went by Pidge as another safeguard. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of them—not at all. It was more that she was ashamed of the kind of reputation she added to her family name, by being unable to cooperate with a team and nearly being on probation for hacking into their systems one too many times when she was younger.

She didn’t really have a reason to keep it from Shiro, though. She couldn’t exactly put a finger on it, but she didn’t want him to know. Yes, she wanted to earn his friendship, but she wanted to do so on her own merit. Even if the fledgling friendship they had now had started over coffee and because she looked like her family, she wanted to earn the rest of it on her own.

Pidge still didn’t know why, and that was kind of unnerving for a girl that likes to _know_ things.

Shiro opened his mouth then, probably to prod a little bit more or meekly back down, as he was wont to do, when a voice called for attention at the front of the room. Pidge and Shiro both jumped a little, turning to look and, sure enough, the lecturer had managed to slip in without their notice. And a glance at the time showed that the history class was about to begin.

“I’m Doctor Newman, and welcome to History 145. First, before we go over the syllabus, we’re going to call roll, so please raise your hand and tell me if you go by another name aside from what I have on my roster.”

Pidge kind of zoned out after that, until she heard, “Katie Holt!” sound.

“I go by Pidge!” she piped up, raising her hand to show that she was in attendance.

She didn’t notice the way her companion had sat up straighter at her name, or the way his eyes widened when she spoke and he turned to her. If she had, it probably would have only confirmed her suspicions that he knew her family. But, when Pidge did turn and notice him looking at her, she grinned at him and leaned back in her chair. She turned back to face the front and then she listened until she heard Shiro’s warm voice answer to Doctor Newman’s call of “Takashi Shirogane”.

“Shiro,” he said simply. But that nickname combined with his given name sent a wave of chatter through the room, and even Pidge had to sit back up to look at her companion. Suddenly it had clicked exactly which famous pilot Hunk had mentioned that morning, a former guest speaker for one of his professors. It was so _obvious_. How had she not noticed when he’d introduced himself as Shiro in the first place?

When she was sure that the professor’s attention was elsewhere, she leaned nearer and hissed, “You’re _that_ Shiro? The famous pilot prodigy, Shiro? Holy crow, Lance would _kill_ to be in this class with you, you know that? You’re his _hero_.”

“I don’t think I’ve done anything to be considered anyone’s _hero_ ,” Shiro murmured back, eyes watching the professor warily.

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Pidge scoffed, but she was smiling. “You don’t need to _do_ anything to be someone’s _hero_ , man. All I know is I’m sitting next to a _legend_ and...oh my God, everyone else in here is going to try to sit next to you on Wednesday if he doesn’t make a seating chart. Have fun with _that_.”

“You’re enjoying the idea of that,” he observed softly.

“Of course!” she tried to stifle her chuckle. “I’m going to keep this info from Lance, though, don’t worry. If he knew you were in this class, he’d quit the night shift at _Café Altea_ just so he could switch into this section, and then he’d leave Hunk all alone.”

Shiro sighed, but didn’t answer, because it was then that Doctor Newman started to address the syllabus. Pidge only pretended to look at it, because she had already read through most of it, and she lost interest when he said that he’d introduce the group portion in the next few weeks. He did, however, take a photo of the entire lecture hall and announce that he expected everyone to sit in the same seats for at least the first few weeks.

“Lucky,” Pidge murmured to Shiro, nudging him lightly. She didn’t know why she was so comfortable around him, considering he was practically a celebrity, but she decided not to question it for now.

Shiro, for his part, hummed in acknowledgement of her statement but otherwise didn’t reply, though his silence didn’t keep him from casting curious, slightly amazed glances her way over the course of the class.


	4. Latte IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wasn’t sure exactly what he was afraid of triggering, though. The memories, maybe. The fear that sometimes still gripped him in the night, forcing him up in a cold sweat, lungs screaming for air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who it is?
> 
> It's still within a month, so I'm on time with THIS update, at least. I may move Lost and Found to updating every other week instead of every week, since I've already fallen behind on that.
> 
> Anyway, welcome to Shiro's point of view, and I hope you enjoy!

 

The first time that Shiro had walked into _Café Altea_ to find not the assistant manager Coran or the opener Nyma behind the counter, he’d almost stopped and turned around. Those big, familiar amber eyes triggered something in his memories and nearly sent him reeling. He’d only fairly recently been completely released from the Garrison’s scrutiny, his prosthetic arm finally re-wired and cleared, and had just started to entertain the idea of meeting up with his old friends again, soon. The memories, though, kept him from reaching out.

This barista was the spitting image of his best friend, though, and Shiro was caught completely by surprise. He hadn’t expected to run into his friend so soon and for a brief moment, he thought he had. Even the barista’s hair was the same color, though it was just long enough to pull back into a low ponytail.

When the smile she wore started to droop, her mouth falling open and those amber eyes widening, his heart gave a strange lurch.

She might look like him...but there was something else about her. The way her eyes flicked over him, almost quicker than he could catch, inquisitive and speculative all at once, nearly stalled him. It felt almost like she could read what he’d been through just by looking at him. There was a quiet intelligence in her features, something that belied a sort of hidden genius not unlike the Holts he’d befriended.

And not only that...but even at ease, she had never shifted in a way that would make her vulnerable. It was something he picked up on from all of his years in the military, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this girl was ready to react at at a moment’s notice.

He nearly missed the way she stared blankly at him to start with, and then she greeted him with a rushed, “W-welcome to _Café Altea_! What can I help you with today?” when he neared the counter.

Her tone snapped him slightly out of his daze. No matter how much this new barista _looked_ like his friend, she was her own person. Her slight build made her even smaller than the man he was remembering, and her eyes, though they held some weariness, weren’t darkened by the long years of suffering that his old friend had been subjected to. Shiro struggled briefly to ground himself and focused on the differences rather than the similarities.

He managed, barely, and Shiro realized then, belatedly, that he’d have to order. His eyes flicked up to the menu, a cursory glance to hide his temporary surprise, before looking back down and offering a slight smile as he answered, “A regular café au lait, made with the seasonal special coffee blend, please.”

The girl tapped his order into the register, and curiosity struck. He searched for her nametag but couldn’t see it from his angle, and he didn’t want to make it obvious, so he stood back as she announced his order and told him he could wait wherever he liked. She hitched a huge grin onto her features and turned to start grinding the coffee beans. Shiro shifted slightly to the side, to get out from in front of the register, and watched her.

“You look kind of familiar. Have we met somewhere before?” he asked before he could stop himself, eyes still trying to figure out why on earth she looked so much like his friend. There were several distinct differences, though. Her features were much softer, a little rounder. And while Matt had the military training, his casual stance wasn’t nearly as defensive as hers was.

He wondered, briefly, if she’d had the same training.

And then it dawned on him that his words could be taken wrong. He wasn’t trying to make a pass at her—he just wanted to know if she reminded him of his friend because of their similar features or because she looked like she might have had some military training. Shiro inwardly scolded himself for speaking before he had thought over the words, and watched as she stumbled into an answer.

“N-no, I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t remember you, and I’m usually pretty good with remembering people. And your face is really memorable—n-not just because of the scar or anything! I-I mean, uh, I m-mean, you kind of walk like military, and I have family in the Garrison and I’m a student at the University, so you could have seen one of them because I’m often told there’s a strong family resemblance? And the base is attached to the school, pretty much, so we may have crossed paths at some point if you’re actually military. But it’s, uh, nice to meet you? I’m—well, I go by Pidge.”

For a moment, Shiro was caught completely off guard. Her words came quick and she was nearly rambling. She looked a little ashamed of herself halfway through but she forged onwards, and then she smiled, sheepishly, over her shoulder and continued preparing his order.

She’d confirmed several things, though—she did have some military training, so the defensive stance was grounded. And he had probably seen one or more of her relatives at the Garrison and projected that recognition onto her, if the family resemblance was as strong as she implied. What place his friend Matt had in this equation, though, wasn’t quite clear. He could have easily been a relative of hers, but he’d never heard the name _Pidge_ during their time imprisoned together. Shiro was positive of that, because it was such an odd name he was sure he’d have remembered it.

“Pidge?” he heard his voice before he’d actually decided to ask, and before she could open her mouth and explain, he felt himself chuckling. With a smile, he finally said, “Nice to meet you then, Pidge. I’m Shiro.”

Pidge looked familiar, but no matter why or how, she was her own person. Maybe he’d find out the rest later, but the tentative grin she gave when she handed him his coffee and bid him farewell was entirely her own. And Shiro found himself quietly anticipating seeing her more in the mornings, whoever this _Pidge_ really was.

* * *

 

Over the course of the next several mornings, excluding those when he had been meeting with Admissions at Garrison University to talk about his late enrollment, he found Pidge behind the counter of Café Altea.

He learned several things about her in the days before classes started, including the fact that she was a student there. Shiro also learned that she was only in her second semester and that she was in advanced engineering courses. The intelligence he had spied in her eyes flashed when she started talking, briefly, about some of her projects, and he could see how passionate she was about what was important to her.

There was just something about her that intrigued him. It was partly because of how familiar her features were, but over the course of a few days, it had become even more about who she was. She was kind and had a sassy side that she didn’t show to other customers. And, more than once, he’d seen her prepare to say something and think better of it, saying something else instead. Curiosity piqued, Shiro decided that he wanted to know her better, and understand why sometimes she didn’t say what was on her mind.

She was fairly blunt, so he wondered what could cause her to hold her tongue.

Their friendship, though in its early stages, was something that soothed him. It was...nice, to be able to converse with someone that didn’t know everything about him and what he’d been through. Trying to figure out the mind of someone who wasn’t trying to kill him was much better than reliving all of his nightmares. It helped him to relax and settle back into being part of normal society again, though he was still having trouble with meeting his old friends and contacts in person.

And then one day, he ran into Keith.

At first, he nearly didn’t recognize the younger man. His shoulders were hunched, his hands jammed into his pockets and collar of his jacket raised as high as it would go. It was the jacket that Shiro recognized, though, because he’d given it to Keith himself. And he hated seeing the younger man drawing in on himself, his brows set in frustration.

Since his release, Shiro had managed to contact his younger foster brother, but he hadn’t seen him yet, even though Keith had almost begged. He’d been afraid that Keith would be put off by his prosthetic arm, which he still hid by wearing long sleeves. He was afraid that he wouldn’t be the kind of brother Keith needed, nor the one that he remembered. Somehow, Shiro had managed to convince himself that his little brother didn’t need him anymore...but seeing Keith like that after so many years made something snap, and he found himself calling out.

“Keith!”

The head snapped up, brows furrowing further as he looked for the sound of his name. And then his eyes met Shiro’s from across the street and widened. Keith looked across the street both ways, quickly, before crossing at a jog.

“Shiro…?”

Keith paused awkwardly after he reached Shiro’s side of the street. His face flickered with conflicting emotions before he closed it off, schooling his features to reflect, instead, cautious curiosity. And in that instant, Shiro knew that he was part of the reason for whatever hesitation that was being shown. The little brother he remembered would have smiled at him at least, and probably would have hugged him even though he wasn’t usually a very touchy person.

That left it up to Shiro, then.

He closed the gap between them and drew Keith close, ruffling his hair and making his voice as light as possible, “Hey, little brother. What’s up?”

After a few moments of stunned silence, during which Shiro’s mind was at war with itself— _what if he really didn’t want to be touched? What if he doesn’t want to be considered my little brother anymore? What if he pushes me away because I wouldn’t see him sooner than this?_ —he heard a soft snort, and then Keith shoved him back. Shiro’s confidence nearly dropped until he saw the joy diffusing across the younger man’s face, and Keith gave him another half-hearted punch to the arm.

“Jeez, took you long enough!”

Shiro stepped back and raised his right arm to scratch the back of his head, sheepishly, and offered a grin. “I was…” he paused, unsure of his words. He was _what_? Insecure? Afraid? Completely different from the Shiro that Keith would remember?

“Overthinking things again, weren’t you?” Keith crossed his arms, leaning his weight to one side. Since when did his little brother get so _cocky_? But Shiro had to admit, there was a sense of maturity around him that settled his restless heartbeat.

Even after all the time they’d been apart, it seemed like Keith still knew him almost as well as he knew himself.

With a laugh, Shiro agreed, adding, “I’ve been suck in my head, yeah.” He reached to clap Keith’s red-clad shoulder and smiled. “Why don’t we catch up over a coffee, little bro?”

“Sounds great,” Keith returned a shy smile.

Shiro dropped his arm around Keith’s shoulders, and though he protested the action, he made no move to correct it. They were fairly close to Café Altea, and since Shiro had already been on the way there, he saw no reason to find a different coffee shop.

And when they arrived, Pidge looked up to greet them, paused for surprise, and then smiled. “Hey Keith, Shiro. Welcome to Café Altea! What can I get you this morning?”

Surprised, Shiro glanced between them, noticing as recognition dawned on Keith’s features. After a few moments, he finally prompted Keith to order. And after that, he was able to get some more information about his new friend...and his little brother.

Pidge’s admittance that she was in the same military grade as Keith was news. They had moved her up because of her intelligence, it seemed, but when he found that they’d kept her school grade consistent with her age because she had _hacked into top secret military files at the age of fourteen_ , he felt both strangely impressed and intensely worried.

And then right after, she had quipped back at Keith that _she_ was the reason _he_ was safe from retribution for sneaking into the Garrison, and Shiro had to wonder what they had been _thinking_.

Their back and forth was pleasant, though, and Shiro tried to interrupt as little as possible. It was nice, seeing Keith interacting with someone closer to his own age. It was a rare enough sight that the older man was caught completely off guard by the knowledge that, though they had been in some of the same training courses, they had never spoken before. They spoke as if they had been friends for years, and Shiro wondered, aloud, if being on the same team would have helped Keith get to know people better.

After a bit, though, Pidge passed him his coffee and he found himself stating, in a sarcastic drawl that was almost like a challenge, “Someday, I’ll have to hear the reasons _why_ you two decided to try and get yourselves _arrested_. Apparently, that day is not today, but someday.”

The two shared a look, and Keith turned back to his brother. “You can try.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Pidge added, and after a few moments, the three of them shared a laugh.

He could tell by the defensive set of Pidge’s shoulders and the way Keith had tensed up that they weren’t ready to share their reasons, whatever they had been, but Shiro wasn’t entirely ready to give up, either. There was something about seeing them interact, though, that reassured him, even though they had both done things that, had they been adults, could have ended in life sentences. It was just a feeling he had, but this quirky little barista and his hotheaded younger brother looked like they’d make good friends.

Shiro made a mental note to try bringing Keith in with him more often. He didn’t mind sharing his new friend if it meant his brother would stop being so withdrawn. And maybe he’d get to catch up on some of his brother’s deeds while he’d been away whilst simultaneously learning more about Pidge.

 _It’s not an ulterior motive_ , he tried to tell himself. _It’s just curiosity_.

* * *

 

When a familiar voice piped up next to him with, “Sh-Shiro?” he jumped, pausing in his rummaging, a pen in his hand. He turned to look at the person he’d be sharing his desk with, at least for the first few minutes of class, and felt his mind going blank. Her amber eyes looked back up at him, equally as surprised, and then his instincts kicked in, and his features softened. Shiro had to make her comfortable, because she currently looked like a deer in the headlights.

Shiro pretended that he didn’t feel the same and chuckled, greeting, “Pidge, wow. I didn’t think I’d see you in here.”

“Surprise?” she offered a tentative smile, waggling her fingers at him. “It’s a small world, huh?”

“Yeah,” Shiro agreed, and he felt himself finally relaxing. Her voice had startled him, and while it was nothing to do with her, it took him a few minutes to calm his frantic heartbeat. He still had trouble dealing with things that were unexpected, even after all the months he’d been free of the Galra. But, rather than draw attention to his slight lapse, he cast around for something to ask and settled on, “So I take it you’re going to follow your family into the Garrison, since you’re here?”

This history class was required for all Garrison hopefuls, or current Garrison soldiers, so it was a safe bet. He didn’t expect the way her eyes blew wide, and his heart started racing at the almost _frantic_ expression. He was about to back out of it, to say it didn’t really matter, when realization dawned and she laughed, slightly breathlessly, and answered, “Yup, that’s exactly it! If I can get some military research grants for my inventions, I’ll be set for life, y’know?”

She offered a wink, and his heart sped up in a different way.

To distract from that, and the way she looked uncertain again, Shiro managed a laugh and offered, “Whatever motivates you, I guess,” with a shrug. And then he paused to examine her, curiously. _Motivations_. He had no idea what any of her motivations were, and that was perhaps one of the most intriguing things about her. So he decided to prod at the surface of the issue, though he didn’t really expect an answer. “Speaking of motivations...I don’t suppose you’d like to share your reasons for hacking into the Garrison when you were fourteen?”

She groaned in a way that was eerily similar to Keith whenever Shiro had brought it up with him again, and she murmured, “I’d much rather not,” as an answer.

Shiro wasn’t quite ready to relent. He’d seen the brief flash of _something_ in her eyes that wasn’t her usual, sarcastic self. It was something almost...nostalgic. And he finally found a way to word another inquiry, after a few beats of silence, and he opened his mouth to ask when—

“Attention, class!”

His eyes snapped to the front, and then to the clock on the wall. Apparently the lecture was about to begin. Shiro knew it was probably best this way, because he didn’t want to push Pidge too far when their friendship was only just beginning. This didn’t keep him from peering curiously at her as role call began.

Pidge zoned out, chin in her hand as she idly tapped her pen against the notebook in front of her.

Shiro did too...until the lecturer called, “Katie Holt!” and his attention snapped to the man in surprise.

Katie was a name he’d heard time and time again, during his imprisonment and long before. She was the little sister that Matt praised to the skies, and the darling daughter that Commander Holt could never speak an ill word of, even when he and his son recounted tales of their childhood mischief. He’d only just started entertaining the idea of meeting with his friend again after months of tests to analyze his psyche, and now he’d be in a class with Matt’s _sister_?

Shiro wasn’t sure he could handle it, what if she—

“I go by Pidge!”

He nearly choked on air and turned, eyes wide, to stare at his table partner, whose hand was raised in the air. She smiled at the professor and then leaned back in her chair. After a few seconds, she seemed to notice his eyes were on her and turned to him. She grinned a little at him before leaning back again, eyes roving the rows of students in front of them, and Shiro worked on composing himself better.

He nearly missed when the professor made a sound of surprise and then said, “Takashi Shirogane!”

The name sent a mutter through the room, people starting to sit up straighter, and he stated simply, “Shiro,” as he raised his hand. Professor Newman nodded and made a note, but had to pause momentarily for the wave of people turning to stare at him.

All those eyes made him a bit uncomfortable.

When the hubbub finally died down, he was startled by the hiss from next to him, an incredulous tone in Pidge’s voice, “You’re _that_ Shiro? The famous pilot prodigy, Shiro? Holy crow, Lance would _kill_ to be in this class with you, you know that? You’re his _hero_.”

Her voice grounded Shiro again, and he turned his attention to her after glancing, covertly, up at the professor as he continued his role call. He’d heard about Pidge’s friend Lance before, and thought that the cocky man she talked about might have been the barista that had served him in the afternoons a time or two. He always stared at Shiro for a few seconds longer than necessary, a sense of recognition flickering in his blue eyes, and it seemed as though he wanted to ask something and never did.

If this Lance was a fan, the fact that he kept staring at Shiro as if he recognized him made a little more sense. But...Shiro wasn’t really someone worth being called a hero. Not when the only thing the public knew about him was that he’d been a top pilot in the military after going into active service straight out of the academy.

He said as much before he could think about it, and his companion merely scoffed and said, “ _Bullshit_. You don’t need to _do_ anything to be someone’s _hero_ , man. All I know is I’m sitting next to a _legend_ and...oh my God, everyone else in here is going to try to sit next to you on Wednesday if he doesn’t make a seating chart. Have fun with that.”

From the twinkle in her eyes, he deduced, “You’re enjoying the idea of that.”

Her grin widened and she tried to stifle a chuckle as she answered, “Of course! I’m going to keep this info from Lance, though, don’t worry. If he knew you were in this class, he’d quit the night shift at _Café Altea_ just so he could switch into this section, and then he’d leave Hunk all alone.”

Hunk, he had learned, was the name of her other friend, the one she used to work nights with. And the two of them were also her teammates in Garrison military training...though she often joked about how they had the worst reputation of any team _ever_. He had yet to hear more on that subject, but Keith had acknowledged it, too, so Shiro was curious to see just how the three members of that team interacted.

Maybe he’d get the chance, someday.

But before then, he had to figure out just how to deal with the fact that he’d made friends with _Matt’s little sister_ without even realizing it. And now that he knew what family resemblance she’d alluded to from their first meeting, he felt a fool for not realizing it sooner.

He’d spent so much time with the Holts that he should have figured it out as soon as he saw her. And he’d definitely felt that tingle of familiarity, and had even compared her to Matt a few times, but after a while, Pidge became _Pidge_ instead of _the barista that looks like someone I know_ , and he’d let the similarities slide.

She was an engaging young woman in her own right, with bright smiles and sarcastic wit, and he found that he enjoyed talking to her for that. He had also been intrigued by the ideas of her misdemeanors—or, had she been older, crimes against the state that could have resulted in consequences far worse than prison. He had wanted to know what on _earth_ could have possessed someone that young to risk everything to hack into a military system.

Now that he knew her as _Katie Holt_ , the timeline started to fall into place. That had been around the time that he and the Holts had first been deployed. Even if she’d been receiving letters and communications from them, she had probably still been curious about the war.

Shiro wondered how many times she had hacked into the systems _without_ being caught.

A flash drew his attention, and he started a little. The professor lowered his camera and announced, “I’ve taken photos of this room and where you’re seated. I expect everyone to sit in their current seats, at least for a few weeks.”

Pidge let out a puff of air, and he heard her toss a, “Lucky,” his direction. He snorted softly, but kept his eyes on the front of the room to listen as the professor went over the syllabus.

It didn’t keep him from casting curious glances back over to Pidge, who chose to scan her copy of the syllabus over following along with Professor Newman’s explanations. The intelligence in those eyes flashed whenever she found a particular passage that interested her, and she actually looked up to pay attention when the professor announced that more information for the long-term pairs project would come later.

When it came to the end of the class and everyone stood up to leave, Pidge gave him a light punch in the arm—he was relieved that it was his human arm, because he hadn’t yet revealed his prosthetic yet—and grinned.

“Good luck with the adoring fans, _Takashi_ ,” she teased, waving around them before almost _disappearing_ between other students that came up to speak with him. The way his name had rolled off her tongue struck him to the core, and he didn’t quite understand why. He wanted to ask Pidge to wait for him, but the words wouldn’t come out and then people were asking him questions.

_Are you the real Takashi Shirogane? Like, the star pilot of your graduating class? The best pilot that the program has ever seen? The prodigy?!_

“Leave Mr. Shirogane alone, class,” the professor’s voice rose from nearby, and the class parted. Professor Newman waved Shiro over. “I need to speak with him. I’m sure you all have places to be. Again, class is dismissed!”

With much grumbling and assurances that the conversations would be continued, the class dispersed and Shiro was left mostly alone with the professor. He looked down at the shorter, older man and smiled a little sheepishly.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Not at all, my boy,” the man waved it off, eyeing the few lingering students in the lecture hall. “I did actually want a word with you, if you don’t mind. Walk with me, my office isn’t far.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shiro wondered what he had done wrong.

It was a sudden, irrational fear, considering that he had just had his thirtieth birthday not long ago, but he couldn’t help it. Had his presence been too much for the class? Were his hopes of gaining a college education and maybe becoming an instructor himself already dashed?

He had been in his head for so long that only the snap of the office door behind him could pull him from his thoughts, and then he stood at attention as the professor slipped around to his desk chair. When Professor Newman looked up and spotted the stance, he let out a surprised chuckle, and then shook his head.

“I’m not going to scold you or anything, and you don’t have to stand at attention for me, Shiro,” the older man said, taking his seat and gesturing to the two chairs in front of his desk. “That is what you said you preferred to be called, is it not?”

“Yes,” Shiro loosened his posture and carefully sat down, a little unsure of himself. It had been a very long time since he had sat in an office rather than standing at attention, and it felt almost unnatural to do so. “I’ve always gone by Shiro, sir.”

“Yes, yes, I seem to remember someone saying that,” he tapped his fingers on the open textbook on his desk, as if trying to recall who had told him that. “Ah, it doesn’t really matter, I suppose. I brought you in here to talk about how we’re going to deal with your fans...though I suspect you may have figured that out already.”

Shiro had considered the possibility, though knowing that he had _fans_ made him shift awkwardly in his seat. He didn’t think he had done anything worth having people idolize him for. But he tried to take Pidge’s words to heart— _you don’t have to do anything to be someone’s hero_. So, even though the idea was still new, and the fact that he had to have a plan for _dealing_ with these so-called fans of his was incredibly daunting, he managed to nod.

Professor Newman nodded again and pressed onwards, “I’ve noticed that you already seem to be friends with Miss Holt. Not surprising, since I hear that you and her brother were almost inseparable in school, so you must have been friends or at least acquaintances for years,” he waved his hand, and Shiro decided it wasn’t worth correcting him and telling him that he’d only actually met Pidge just over a week ago.

“Pidge is a great friend,” he said instead. He wasn’t entirely sure why he didn’t say anything else.

“She doesn’t seem nearly as affected by your fame as any of the other students, at any rate,” the older man prattled on, “so I have already decided to make the two of you permanent seat partners. She won’t be distracted by you, and it will give you peace of mind, I think, to be away from the others. But I don’t want to make this decision final without your opinion. What say you, Shiro?”

“I, uh,” Shiro paused, unsure. He didn’t want to force Pidge to be his partner for the rest of the class. What if she had other friends in the course? But he had to admit that being partnered with her was definitely a lot more relaxing than the idea of being paired with anyone that might consider him a hero. And it would give him even more time to figure out whatever secrets she was keeping, though he kept telling himself he wouldn’t pry.

 _They’re not ulterior motives_ , he told himself again. Unless wanting to be her friend and understand her actions counted as an ulterior motive.

After a few long moments, he finally formed the rest of his response and told the professor, “I have no problem with that, but I think you should ask Pidge what she thinks, first.”

“Right you are, right you are,” Professor Newman nodded, making a note on the side of the roster he’d carried back with him. “I’ll have to meet with Miss Holt after the next class, then. That was really all I had for you, unless you have any questions?”

Shiro shook his head. “No, sir, I don’t have any questions.”

 _Not that you can answer, anyway_.

“Well, then, that will be everything. I will see you next class, Shiro.”

“Yes, sir,” Shiro nodded, standing from his seat. He felt like he should say something more, but he had no idea what, so he just let himself out of the office. He nodded to another professor that passed and then slipped out of the history faculty office.

His feet moved automatically, taking him across the street with a group of other college students leaving campus. Most of them sounded tired, talking with friends, and he tuned the conversation out as he turned to follow the path home. A girl invited her friend to a party, he overheard before they peeled off to walk a different direction, and he heard a boy groan about his calculus homework. About four blocks from campus, he found himself slowing, peering through the cheery windows of _Café Altea_ as he passed.

He assumed that the two boys behind the counter were Hunk and Lance. They fit Pidge’s brief descriptions of her friends and teammates, and his few interactions with the tall, lanky one had nearly convinced him that he was Lance. And as he watched, that certainty only grew as he presented a coffee to a pretty girl with an exaggerated flourish.

It was getting late, though, so he moved past the shop. There wouldn’t be a pair of amber eyes and a sarcastic grin to greet him at this time of night, and he figured that he should probably review the notes for his math class to prevent himself from falling behind, if at all possible.

A few blocks later, he took a left and then continued until he reached his building, about four more blocks down, and he made his way inside and up three flights of stairs until he reached his floor. A few moments and a fingerprint scan later and Shiro was slipping into his apartment, the door sliding closed behind him. The lights flickered on as soon as he stepped in, and he slipped his shoes off near the door.

The apartment was clean, but very sparsely furnished with even fewer decorative things around. There wasn’t much to it, but he thought it was better that way. Less distractions in his living environment made it less likely for something to trigger... _things._

He wasn’t sure exactly what he was afraid of triggering, though. The memories, maybe. The fear that sometimes still gripped him in the night, forcing him up in a cold sweat, lungs screaming for air. The face Matt had worn, eyes filled with a haunted, betrayed look as he rolled, clutching his knee, for the split second before Shiro had hissed for him to _take care of your father_ as he was dragged into the rink instead.

Shiro gave his head a single, hard shake, dropping his backpack on the kitchen table.

“ _Math_ ,” he told himself, shuddering a little at how similar the word was to _Matt_.

He put on some tea, trying to ignore the scattered memories that kept surfacing. There was a flash of Matt, smiling and laughing, a few days before they had been deployed. They had been training together for nearly a year now, after Matt had been assigned to Shiro’s unit shortly after he’d been the youngest graduate that Garrison University had ever seen. He’d been bright-eyed and nineteen, and Shiro had been stoic, confident, and twenty-four already.

An image of the blood gushing from between Matt’s fingers as he tried to stop the blood flowing from where Shiro’s arm had once been, voice frantic as he shouted at their Galra captors to _stay back_ flooded through his mind. At twenty-three, Matt looked so much older than he actually was. At nearly twenty-nine, Shiro thought he was going to die right there.

Shiro’s stomach churned at the memory, his right hand clenching tightly at his side. He could barely remember the weight of a real, flesh-and-blood arm.

 _At least you have an arm_ , he tried to tell himself. No matter how many times he did, though, he still couldn’t forget what it was. A hand made entirely of metal and plastic and other synthetic materials, outwardly of Galra make. The sight of it still sometimes sent him over the edge, even though it had been a part of him for nearly a year and a half.

He couldn’t even feel the way his fingertips were digging into his palm. Before the Garrison had re-wired the arm, he still had that sensation, the ability to touch and to feel things even though the limb was synthetic. After they’d re-wired it, he had lost the ability to feel and, even if it was safer now, he missed it.

His fist clenched tighter, and then a sharp pain shot through his shoulder and he hissed through his teeth.

 _Calm down, Takashi_ , he told himself firmly, pausing in the middle of his kitchen and closing his eyes. He struggled to find his inner peace, a balance he hadn’t had since before the internment camp and his gladiator battles.

Calming himself was getting easier with each time his heart started to race in panic, but it still left him feeling drained.

He didn’t want to be afraid of all of his memories. They were all a part of him, a part of something that had happened and partially defined who he was, and as much as he hated to see his friend hurt, he knew that Matt had already forgiven him. And someday, he wanted to see his best friend again. He wanted to be able to _remember_ his days with Matt without the terror of what they’d been through tainting even their happy experiences. He wanted to be able to talk to him and hear his voice, instead of always ignoring his calls and texting him instead. And maybe...maybe that day would come soon.

Just a few days ago, he would have shied away from someone that offered to introduce him to Katie Holt. His heart would have squeezed and his panic would have risen with the bile in his throat, and he would have refused. But now, with the knowledge that he’d already been on the path to a tentative friendship with her, despite her similarities to Matt, he felt...confident.

Maybe it wouldn’t be today. He might not even be ready tomorrow. But someday soon, he felt like he’d be able to hear his friend’s voice again. Shiro was ready to take that step, ready to face his demons and meet with his friend and find some semblance of composure once again.

He sat down with his cup of tea and his math notes to review, and took a few shaky breaths.

 _I’ll be alright_ , he told himself, pouring over a formula. _I’ll be fine. Everything is fine_.

* * *

 

About twenty minutes later, he was pulled from reviewing his notes when his phone started to ring. Shiro started, head snapping to the buzzing, ringing, face-down device next to him on the table. It could be his therapist calling to schedule another appointment, or the Garrison wanting him to come in for some sort of psych eval again.

With a heavy hand and a heavier heart, he took a breath and turned it over.

He read the name on his screen once and barely took it in. He paused, blinked, and reread it.

_MATT_

The name taunted him. His pulse raced, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, and Shiro could only stare. He’d just decided to face his fears, but this...this was too soon. His throat was tight and he didn’t think he could manage to speak.

 _Shiro_ , a broken voice whispered in his mind, accompanied by a tired smile, _no matter what happens, you’re my best friend. You know that, right_?

Shiro squeezed his eyes closed, breathing ragged.

A text from the week before crossed his mind, the words replaying in his mind for what had to be the hundredth time in the short time, _Hey man, I’m gonna be in town soon to surprise my little sis. Wanna meet up? I know you’re nervous but I really miss my best friend._

His eyes snapped open and, taking one more shaky breath, he slid the icon to _ANSWER_ before he could talk himself out of it.

“H...hey,” his tone was hoarse, but he heard a voice hitch on the other end of the line.

“Hey,” his friend’s voice was warm. “You finally picked up.”


	5. Latte V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She didn’t dwell on how cute he was when he was a little frustrated, though. That would have been preposterous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYO!
> 
> It's been a month and five days, but here it is! I didn't quite get to everything I wanted to cover in this chapter, as the characters tend to have minds of their own and never cooperate, but this chapter is here and I hope you guys enjoy it!

 

_Still bored with classes?_

Pidge found the text from her brother after her weekly physical training on Tuesday afternoon, where she and her notoriously _bad_ team had embarrassed themselves again. _Bored_ wasn’t exactly the right word, but she was exhausted. She loved Hunk and Lance to death, but they had to sort out everything that was wrong with their team or the Garrison would turn them out soon. Even her family name wouldn’t save her from that.

Her actual academic classes weren’t any more entertaining than the previous day’s classes, though. Her communications class, based on the syllabus, looked like it was going to be a recap of all the communications training she’d ever had, and her literature class featured two books she’d already read in the past and analyzed cover to cover.

Groaning to herself as she prepared to walk home, choosing to shower in her apartment as opposed to in the locker rooms, she tried to figure out a response.

At last, she settled on sending, _Bored might be an understatement._

_Ha! Let me guess. You’ve already learned everything you need for your comm class, and you’ve read all the books for that lit class, huh?_

Pidge rolled her eyes and typed back, _What kind of stalker are you? Stop memorizing my class schedule, nerd._

As always, Matt was quick at responding to her messages. It was almost like he was glued to his phone…but that was pretty much a family trait. She was more than guilty of texting Lance snide jokes about their lit professor’s voice just earlier that day during class. In her defense, it was just syllabus review, but Matt still didn’t need to know that.

Another chime sounded, and she quickly turned her gaze back to her phone and opened the message.

_Just looking out for my little sis!_

She looked up as she crossed the street with a small group of other college students leaving campus, and once she was safely on the sidewalk once more, she started to tap out a response.

_I’m all grown up, Matt, I can handle myself! But thanks. I appreciate the gesture._

Pidge smiled to herself a little. She might try to come off as her usual, snarky self in her texts to her brother, but she really did appreciate his attentiveness. Just knowing that he was there, at home, and able to text her made it seem as if those years he was gone hadn’t even happened. Those days seemed so far removed from the present, where she heard from Matt almost every day.

She could still remember the day she’d found out that her father and brother were still alive. How could she not, when the memory had replayed itself time and time again in both dreams and her waking moments?

Just a few short months after she started university, the universe decided that she had been put through enough. At least that’s what it had felt like when she was pulled out of class by an officer and taken to the military base proper, where people were filing off of a truck. She’d been confused, but also scared, because the last time she had been on the base itself had been the day they had declared her family missing.

Pidge had taken a deep breath and continued watching, because it didn’t seem like her officer escort was going to take her any farther.

Most of the people she saw exiting the truck were emaciated, so malnourished that they looked as if they might crumble...but to contrast their seeming fragility, every single one of them was smiling. And every person was shaking hands with two men before entering a barracks, and she could see them speaking without being able to make out a word.

It had been several long moments before she realized who the two people were. And then, at first, Pidge didn’t believe her eyes, because they were much skinnier than she remembered them and it had been over three years since they had been declared missing.

“Dad?” she managed to murmur softly after a few long moments, blinking her suddenly burning eyes as if to clear her sight. “Matt?”

She wasn’t close enough for them to hear, but the officer with her answered in the affirmative.

She hadn’t been able to move, but as soon as the last person had shaken Matt’s hand, her brother looked up and his jaw dropped. And then she saw him beam and raise his arm, waving at her. His action caused her father to turn, curiously, to see what had Matt so excited, and then she saw warmth envelope his features and they started to blur as her legs finally decided to work again.

With tears in her eyes, Pidge had embraced her father and brother and confided, in a cracking voice, “I missed you!”

Pidge couldn’t clearly remember everything that had happened that day, but she did know that a very brave soldier had followed her father’s plan to escape, with the help of the others, and had managed to alert the Garrison about the camp where the Galran Empire had been holding prisoners of war.

Over the next several days, her family was in and out of the hospital on base for various tests and procedures that she wasn’t allowed to be present for, as well as some sort of testifying in favor of the man who had saved them.

Apparently there had been some kind of accident which had resulted in loss of limb, and instead of killing the prisoner, the Galra had affixed a prosthetic arm in place of the lost one. The Garrison was concerned that the prosthetic might serve as a means for the Galra to brainwash him and infiltrate the military from the inside.

Matt had been upset that, despite the positive testimonies of over ten other prisoners, they refused to ease their suspicions. It was only after a month and a half of this fretting over their friend, whose name they never mentioned around her, that they learned he had been released. Her father and brother were both relieved to hear it, and she felt much more at ease now that they were slightly more calm.

Shortly after that, they were granted temporary leave, to spend time at home and recover from the ordeals they had gone through, and they had gone home to fill the empty house that her mother had refused to give up on.

Pidge had remained in her apartment, working at Café Altea and going to school, but she had regained the ability to talk freely with her older brother and best friend in the entire world. Matt made sure to visit her and text her and call her as often as he possibly could, which meant that they were in contact at least daily.

It was a huge comfort after nearly four years of complete silence from him.

The sudden sound of her phone once again pulled her back to the present, and she glanced around her to make sure she wasn’t in any immediate danger of walking into a pole or something as she looked back down to read Matt’s latest message.

_Why you gotta be so rude? </3_

She couldn’t suppress the snort and she rolled her eyes as she responded.

_Don’t quote song lyrics at me, man._

As usual, the reply was pretty instantaneous.

_Damn, you caught me. But that’s not even the genre you like. How did you know I was quoting?_

Maybe because the radio had played it constantly for a few years, on the station that the radio in his room had been on when he had last used it? Maybe because she couldn’t bring herself to change the channel and had been in his room a few times just to listen to his station to feel a little closer to him? Or maybe just because it was a song she’d heard in commercials and vines and memes and from the living shitpost named Lance so often that she could probably sing it in her sleep.

Her fingers left the words, _Maybe because it’s overplayed?_ in the message box and she clicked _SEND_ , glancing up as she neared the coffee shop. She wasn’t going in, not tonight, but she had to walk by to get to her apartment, so she peered in the windows to find Lance bussing a few tables and Hunk serving a drink to a girl that looked familiar.

When she turned, Pidge grinned.

 _Shay_. No wonder it looked like Hunk was babbling a mile a minute and turning red. His crush on her couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d actually been _trying_ to show it off. And from the way that she carefully covered her face when she turned to giggle, Pidge had a feeling Shay was in the same boat.

Before she could be tempted to step inside to say hi to her best friends, and maybe embarrass Hunk a little while she was at it, she tore her gaze away. Her phone had gone off at least twice, and she moved to read the texts as the windows of the coffee shop slid past.

_HOW DARE YOU INSULT THIS MODERN CLASSIC_

And that was followed in the same time stamp by, _Okay, you’re right._

Before she could respond to either of those, the phone went off again and another message popped up.

_Anyway, you’re probably almost home so I’ll let you do your homework. Don’t rush through it!_

“Thanks, _Mom_ ,” she laughed softly to herself, turning at the corner. Her apartment building was on the next block, so he’d been close. And she did have a bit of homework, but considering it was the second day of classes, there wasn’t really that much.

 _I don’t rush. It’s just easy!_ she typed out. A second later she started a new message and added, _Besides, there’s not that much. I could probably do it with my eyes closed._

Matt’s _Less texting, more homework!_ came through as she started to unlock her door, and she couldn’t help rolling her eyes. Her next message was filled with sarcasm, not that it would translate well in text format, and she tossed her keys on the table next to the door when she stepped inside and closed it behind her.

 _Fine, loser_.

He didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she was free to slip into the kitchen and grab something to snack on and a drink before heading back to the living room. Pidge absently flipped on her television as she settled on the floor, her back against her small sofa and the coffee table before her. The sound of some sort bot battles sounded as she pulled the _Pride & Prejudice_ pretest from her bag.

Of course the first book of her literature class had been one that she’d read in high school, but it was a relief that the very first question asked if she had already read the book. Maybe the professor wouldn’t think that she’d searched a summary on the web to answer the questions correctly in order to impress.

“This...was...when...she...refused...his…first...proposal…” Pidge murmured as she wrote, answering the sixth question out of fifteen. She scrawled a few more lines, and then moved on.

She’d finished within an hour and moved on to bigger and better things.

The Rover II wouldn’t build itself, after all.

* * *

 

Classes were slow and just as dull as usual for the rest of the week. Pidge continued to move through her coursework and lectures with ease. Her mornings at the coffee shop were much the same as they had been, although the only thing worth noting that she had learned about Shiro was that he was incredibly intelligent. Even more than he seemed, or than his fame had implied.

He had been worried about his math, but he was doing the assignment in the shop one morning and seemed to be working through it with relative ease. And when he’d paused, his brow furrowed, she’d slipped out from behind the counter to offer help. Pidge had discovered that he was an attentive listener, and he only needed help one time before he was able to move through similar problems with nary a problem.

She didn’t dwell on how _cute_ he was when he was a little frustrated, though. That would have been preposterous.

And with daily texts and mornings that started with the scent of coffee, the rest of the first week of classes finished. Lance had already managed to piss off five girls—and the boyfriends of two of them—in the two classes he shared with Pidge, and she was more than content to let him stew in the glares he’d earned. Hunk, though, was all that was right with the world and was more than willing to help his buddy out of the rough situation.

At least Keith was in the same class and Pidge could share a knowing, amused glance at the incessant flirt’s misfortune with him.

Saturday rolled around fairly quickly, even with as slow as her classes seemed to pass, and with it, Pidge’s six to two shift at Café Altea had arrived. She was up by five and dragged herself around the apartment, showering and grabbing a quick breakfast of sorts before heading out at a quarter to six. It was less than five minutes to the shop when walking, so she didn’t feel the need to hurry too much.

Someday, that might come back to haunt her, but for now, she’d be fine.

And then it was business as usual. Her slightly sleep-deprived mind repeated her mantra— _Coffee. Concentrated sugar rush. Caffeine. Caffeine. Coffee. Concentrated sugar rush. Caffeine. Caffeine. Caffeine. Caffeine. Concentrated sugar rush. Coffee._

“Rough week?” her next customer asked as she bid the middle-aged woman before him farewell and stifled a yawn. Pidge blinked and looked, only to find herself breaking into a grin. “I didn’t think college would be all that hard for a genius.”

“Hey, Keith,” she greeted, standing a little straighter and grinning a little wider. “I just stayed up too late working on a personal project, nothing big. What can I get you?”

“A personal project, huh?” he glanced up at the menu as he added, with a smile in his tone, “Hope it’s nothing like hacking into secret military files or anything. That would be an awful idea.”

“Of course it would,” Pidge snorted, “whyever would I do _that_?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Keith quipped back, and then asked, “Can I just get a large coffee? And, uh, an application…?”

Pidge had already pulled out the large cup, sitting it beside the register as she punched in the price, but she stopped short before hitting the _TOTAL_ button. Her brain caught up and she looked at Keith quickly. To make sure she heard right, she repeated, “An application?”

He shrugged, glancing away, and said, with forced ease, “I could use the extra cash.”

“You’ll be giving Lance another thing to challenge you in,” she eased up, finally taking the bill Keith offered and punching it in so the cash drawer popped open. She counted out his change and handed it back to him, as well as a paper she fished out from just under the cabinet. She tried to imitate Lance and declared boldly, “‘ _I bet I make a better iced, sugar-free, vanilla latte with soy milk than you, Mullet_!’”

Keith snorted as she stepped over to pour his coffee. “I’m mostly free in the mornings, though, so I feel like I’d see you more often. Unless _you’re_ going to take his place, I’m sure I’d only have to deal with it twice a week.”

“Oh, he’d find a way to make daily challenges if you get hired,” she capped the coffee cup and pulled the sleeve onto it. “Trust me. But don’t let that scare you off! Sometimes I could really use a hand in the mornings.”

She passed him his drink and he grinned wolfishly back. “Maybe you could give me some pointers on how to get Lance to shut up when he gets too annoying.”

“You could tell me why you were sneaking around the Garrison that one time,” Pidge teased.

“It was more than just the once,” the words were casual, and he gave a conspiratorial smirk. “But if I told you that, you’d have to tell me how many times you hacked in and why you did it, too. It’s only fair.”

It would be nice to have someone else to talk to about it, even though her reasons were moot now. She’d done it, at first, to keep tabs on her dad and brother through the military communication channels, back when they’d first been deployed, and then later to try to find them or find more information on them while they were missing. And while she had talked to Matt about it, and had a small lecture from her father even though he hadn’t been able to hide the pride in his tone, it was different because they were family. It was different because they _were_ the reason.

If Keith had a similar reason, though, maybe he’d relate.

“Deal,” she finally replied, grinning. Keith stepped aside then, and she had to greet the next customer in line. She watched him slip over to the table that Shiro usually occupied when he was in the shop and pulled out a pen. Pidge turned away from him completely to focus on the short line then and found herself making a caramel macchiato.

* * *

 

As she was hanging up her apron in the back room around two, Lance let out an undignified wail.

“Pidge!” he screeched, stepping into the locker room doorway with a paper in his hand. “Pidge, what is this?! You accepted an application from _Keith_ today?!” he waved his arms around, and Pidge rolled her eyes when she realized that his dramatics were just his usual show. “What were you _thinking_?! He’ll be upset when he finds out that he can’t be number one here, y’know!”

“If he’s going to be the one upset, then why are you freaking out?” she drawled, boredly, as she pulled on her oversized hoodie. “And besides, you don’t even know if he’s hired yet. Allura and Coran have to interview him first, and his availability is mostly mornings so you wouldn’t have to deal with him that much anyway.”

“I—that’s not the point!” Lance whined. “The shop is my haven! My little piece of heaven away from home! The fact that he’ll be here... _defiling it_ …!”

“Oh, shut up,” Pidge shoved him in the shoulder as she passed, working her way around the counter as the door chimed. “You’ll survive, Lance!”

“ _Piiiiiiiidge!_ ” his voice echoed, and a few regulars in the shop snickered. “You can’t just _do_ this to me!”

“Man, _Pidge_ , have pity on the poor soul,” another voice said, and she groaned.

“I haven’t even _done_ anything, Matt—” her voice caught at the name and how easily it fell from her lips, and she turned around as quickly as she could. Two figures were stepping into the shop—the chime she’d heard moments before—and one of them was, indeed, her older brother. With a laugh, she greeted, “ _Matt_!”

He held out his arms, and she folded herself into his embrace, grinning, as he ruffled her hair and teased, “The fact that you haven’t done anything is honestly more terrifying, little sis. With you, the possibilities are endless.”

“Oh, hush!” she pushed his shoulder as she extracted herself from his hug. “What are you even _doing_ here? You didn’t tell me you were coming!”

“Two birds with one stone!” he winked, and then motioned to his friend. “I wanted to visit—”

Pidge tuned out, blinking up at the taller, broader man behind her brother, who grinned a little sheepishly back. There were bags underneath his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept well lately, but he looked...relaxed. In fact, he looked more relaxed than she thought she’d ever seen him look, and her stomach gave an odd lurch.

She cut Matt off without meaning to, interjecting with, “Wait, _Shiro_? How do you guys even know each other?”

Her eyes slid between the two of them, and she didn’t miss the way her brother stiffened, just a little. He only did that about things that had some kind of relation to the war, and suspicions surfaced, but Pidge fought to suppress them as she stared between them.

“Oh, y-you know each other, too?” Matt laughed, dropping an arm around her shoulders. She didn’t miss the brief stutter. “We met in school ages ago, but we weren’t really friends until, uh, after. But Shiro here is my best friend—and I guess it’s obvious that you’ve met my kid sister, huh, Shiro?” he turned his head to address the older man. “I guess you did say you liked coming here, so it makes sense. And while we’re here,” he snapped his attention back to Pidge and hitched a grin, “aren’t you gonna have a coffee with us?”

“I just made coffee for eight hours,” she used her best monotone voice, raising a brow as she pretended not to notice the change of topic. “I think I’m going to smell like coffee for the next _year_. And you want me to stick around?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t want to, Pidgeroo,” Lance’s voice quipped. “I still have a bone to pick with you!”

“More reason to leave,” she tossed at Matt, who snorted as Lance continued.

“Besides, Hunk will be in soon and I know you nerds will have something to talk about. And—oh, is that your brother?” Lance stepped up next to him and blinked, glancing back and forth for a few moments between the Holt siblings. “Wow, you _do_ look alike! I still can't get over that, man. You weren’t kidding about the whole family resemblance thing, huh, Pidgey-pie?”

"You knew that already," she groused.

"Yeah, yeah," Lance waved her off, grinning, and turned back to Matt. "It's been awhile. Nice to see ya!"

“Hey, Lance,” Matt reached forward to shake the other boy’s hand with a grin. “Nice to see you again.”

No matter how many times they met, this entire scenario was strange for her. Pidge always forgot that her friends and her family had never really interacted before she went to college. Well, her friends and the men in her family, because Lance and Hunk had met her mother before. It was even weirder that, even though he’d visited before, Matt still had yet to meet Hunk. She was certain they'd have a lot in common, but Pidge had always been too focused on her brother and his happiness and comfort than anything else. He’d always be her best friend, after all.

The feeling was even stranger when she added Shiro into the equation.

The fact that he was good friends with Matt would explain the way he’d looked at her when they first met. The family resemblance really was uncanny, and it had thrown him off almost as much as his appearance had done for her. And now she understood, because hindsight was indeed twenty-twenty.

He’d looked at her as though she was a puzzle piece he couldn’t quite place yet, but now she thought he’d found her spot. She was the sister of his best friend, Matt Holt. A man he hadn’t seen—or apparently spoken to—in quite a while. And she wondered about that, too. If they were best friends, why hadn’t they been in contact? Why hadn’t Matt visited Shiro sooner?

Though she wouldn’t say it just yet, she suspected it had something to do with being in the war together.

“Sweet! Stayin' long?"

"Just for the weekend," Matt answered, laughing a little. "Maybe I'll stay longer next time."

"Damn. Well, I'm sure you'll spend most of your time with Pidge, but _next time_ we should really all go out or something. And you a— _me cago_ , _Pidgisita, es Shiro?!_ ”

Lance had turned to Shiro, smiling that same shit-eating grin he always wore, only to change his tune as soon as he looked at the other newcomer. For a moment, Pidge wanted to let him stew, because when he’d slipped into rapid Spanish— _really, Lance?_ —he’d turned to stare at her, gaping.

_I’m shitting, Pidge, is that Shiro?!_

She rolled her eyes and had pity, answering, “Yes, Lance, it is.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” he breathed, eyes flicking back to his hero. “Oh my _God_. Pidge, Pidgeot, _Pidgisita_ , you didn’t _tell_ me—”

“Do I have to tell you everything, _Dad_?” she teased slipping away from her brother to nudge her friend. “Whatever. Lance, you know my brother Matt and _yes_ , this is Shiro, the man you’ve hero-worshipped for years.”

“ _Pidge!_ ” Lance’s voice was high-pitched and he scrambled to cover her mouth while rambling, “H-hi, hey, what’s up? Welcome t-to Café Altea, guys! Real cool, honored and stuff, what can I get for you? Don’t mind Pidge she’s a little shit— _ouch!_ ”

Grinning, Pidge broke free of his grasp.

“ _Dios mío_!” Lance cried, shaking his hand. “Pidge, what are you, _twelve_?! I know you _look it_ —”

He cut off when laughter rang out, and Pidge turned to find her brother trying to stifle his chuckles and failing. Even Shiro was grinning as Matt gave up trying to hold it in, and Pidge couldn’t help the light chuckle that passed her lips. It had been a long time since she’d seen Matt like this, and she probably had Shiro, in part, to thank for it. Matt had been preoccupied with a friend he hadn’t seen for a while, she knew. And Shiro’s presence, topped by Lance’s amazing ability to screw things up and make horrendous first impressions, had finally cheered him up.

“Don’t laugh at me!” the lanky barista whined. “The little gremlin _bit_ me!”

“Keep calling me _little_ and I might actually hurt you,” Pidge tried to school her tone into a more menacing one, but the smile that wouldn’t leave added a lilt to it that severely diminished the force behind her threat.

Matt wheezed a little, dropping a hand almost too heavily on her shoulder and sending her staggering for a moment before he said, “You can’t fault him for telling the truth, Sis!” and when she glared at him, he broke down into another fit of laughter. It took a few moments before he could speak again, during which Pidge overheard Shiro softly introduce himself to Lance, and then Matt spoke again. “Now let’s order coffees and hang out for a while! Lance said that your friend Hunk would be here soon, too. I have to meet him—isn’t he the one who helped you build that particle accelerator prototype that’s in your closet at home?”

“Yes, that’s Hunk, and what the _hell_ are you doing digging through my closet?!” she shoved him in the shoulder indignantly, but she was laughing, too.

When Matt was happy, especially since it had been so long since she’d seen him this cheerful, she couldn’t help but feel her spirits lift. It was...nice, seeing him like this. And it was even more pleasant to be able to slide into a booth with her brother and his handsome best friend, with coffees and muffins that Matt had insisted on purchasing, and just chat on a Saturday afternoon.

 _Maybe I’ll get to talk to Shiro more, like this,_ she found herself musing as Matt teased the other man about the admittance that Pidge had helped him on his math homework earlier in the week. She flushed and averted her gaze, picking at her muffin, until the conversation shifted, at a subtle cue from Shiro, into video games.

“What? You still haven’t played it?! Man, I told you _years_ ago that when you got home, you needed to play!” Matt, upon hearing that Shiro still hadn’t played a game he’d recommended, sounded indignant. But he’d given her more information than she’d been expecting, in just that one sentence.

 _When you got home_ , he’d said. That meant he’d recommended his favorite game to Shiro _in the field_. During the war.

Pidge took a quick sip of her drink, and to try to steer her mind away from those confusing thoughts and these new revelations about her brother’s friendship with Takashi Shirogane, she piped up, “Joke’s on you guys. I’ve played them _both_.”

Matt called her a _traitor_ , gasping dramatically, and Shiro asked her what she thought of his favorite game, and if she could explain her favorite features of both for comparison’s sake, and she dived right in. In fact, they were so enthusiastic that, when Hunk arrived for work, he managed to slip in a few comments about both games as well...after his initial stuttering upon meeting Matt, which was still more graceful than the way Lance had reacted.

When they parted ways that night, her head was still spinning.

“It was good to see you again, Shiro,” Matt grinned, reaching forward to pat Shiro on the shoulder. If she hadn’t been watching him so closely, Pidge wouldn’t have seen him wince a little, and at first she wondered why. Had Matt done something to offend him? Shiro was a relatively kind-hearted person, from what she had seen, so how could her brother have done anything to upset him?

After a moment, she noticed Shiro reach up and grasp his upper arm lightly, rolling his own shoulder with another wince of discomfort.

Was he _hurt_?

“Yeah,” his voice drew her out of her head. “Yeah, it was good to see you again, too. Sorry I kept missing your calls.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Matt laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “As long as you start picking up more often, I suppose I can forgive you for being such a bad communicator lately. And now I know there’s someone around here I can count on to keep an eye on this twerp,” he ruffled Pidge’s hair affectionately and ignored her disgruntled protest as he continued, “Did you know she nearly got expelled for hacking into the Garrison too many times? Gosh, Katie-cat, you’re lucky they only caught you a few times.”

“I’ve heard,” Shiro raised an eyebrow at her and she groaned.

“I have one dad, I don’t need more!” she threw her arms up. “You make _one_ mistake, and you _never_ get to live it down!”

Matt snorted and remarked, “Katie Holt, if I went on about all the laws you’ve broken, we’d be here all night. Need I remind you about the time you hotwired that hoverbike just because you wanted to know what it was like to ride one? You’re lucky I kept _that_ from Dad, and that we got it back before the owner even found out about it! And remember when you needed that expensive wire for Rover, and you snuck into Dad’s lab at the Garrison to _steal_ one? And—”

“Okay, that’s enough!” she lurched up on her toes to clap a hand firmly over her brother’s big mouth, face burning. She could feel the incredulous gaze of the most attractive man she’d ever met on her back, and now that he knew of all her transgressions, she felt horror bubbling in her stomach. What would he say, now that he knew she was such a bad egg?

Matt stepped back, forcing her hand to drop from his mouth, and with a grin asked Shiro over her head, “See why she needs someone to keep an eye on her? Curiosity killed the cat, little sis, and I’d really like it if you weren’t in jail for the rest of your life.”

“Chances of me going to jail would be far fewer if you’d stop _talking_ about all of this!” she retorted, crossing her arms.

“Well,” Shiro sounded mildly amused, and she turned to him as he shrugged a little. “I guess I can always try to keep her out of trouble, but you know kids these days.”

It was her brother’s turn to groan, cutting over Pidge’s quickly forming protest with, “Ugh, Shiro, why do you have to talk like an old man? You’re only a few years older than me!”

Her own complaints about not needing a babysitter died and she felt herself starting to laugh. It was pretty much the same argument that Keith had given just a few days before, when Shiro had first found out about her hacks for the first time, and when she had outed Keith’s secret about sneaking into the Garrison.

Finally, after realizing that Matt was quirking an amused, almost _knowing_ brow at her and Shiro was cocking his head in an unspoken question, she composed herself and managed, “Firstly, I don’t need a babysitter. I’m an adult and I’m fully capable of taking care of myself, thank you. And secondly, Matt, if you want to sleep at my apartment tonight, you have three seconds to apologize for treating me like I’m still twelve years old.”

“What—”

“Three,” Pidge started counting down nearly immediately, and Matt stared for a moment, surprised. “Two,” she continued, arms still crossed. As she opened her mouth again, he finally caved.

“Fine, fine! I’m sorry for treating you like a kid! You’re my little sister and I can’t help it, Katie. So won’t you find it in your heart to forgive your foolish brother?” he pouted, his amber eyes blown impossibly wide to compliment the expression, and she rolled her own.

“Good,” she nodded. “That’ll do this time.”

Pidge noticed Shiro rolling his shoulder again, face a little pinched, but when he saw that she was watching, his expression became unreadable and, a moment later, he smiled at her. He dropped his hand from his arm and averted his gaze.

_What’s wrong with his arm?_

“Well, I have some homework to finish up tonight, before I go into the Garrison for some things tomorrow,” Shiro smiled again, a little sadly this time. “It was really great seeing you again, Matt. I’m glad you gave me a call. And I’ll see you in class on Monday, Pidge. If not before that, at the coffee shop.”

He held out his hand—the sore arm, she noted—for a handshake, and Matt obliged first, practically beaming at Shiro. That was more than enough proof that Shiro really was Matt’s best friend, at least for Pidge, and as she shook his hand, too, bidding him farewell, she finally started to wonder why she’d never heard of him before now.

“It’s chilly out here, Sis,” Matt dropped his arm around her shoulder again. He was a touchy kind of person now, and she’d read somewhere that it might be his way of coping with the solitude of his imprisonment. Some people would be more withdrawn— _Shiro_ , her mind supplied, though she had no proof—but others would embrace those they held dear because they’d started to fear they might never have the chance again. So, despite how Pidge herself wasn’t really big on physical affection, she always let it happen.

“Let me guess,” she mused aloud, faking a thoughtful tone. “You want to go back to my apartment so you can curl up on my couch, drink all my hot chocolate, steal half the blankets in the whole place, and force me to watch some silly sci-fi movie with you, right?”

Matt squeezed lightly and asked, with a grin, “How did you guess?”

She faked a groan, but allowed him to guide them towards her apartment.

As he babbled on about a new TV show he’d started watching with their dad, something about building robots that she thought she’d already seen, Pidge allowed her mind to wander. She had a lot to think about tonight, after all, especially after finding out how close her brother and Shiro were. It was something she’d never expected, though signs had been there.

Shiro had seen the similarities between she and her brother the very first time they’d met, and he had to have realized who she was. If not on his own, he’d learned it in their shared night class during roll call, and he’d have placed it then. So why hadn’t he asked her about Matt then? But even more than that, she wondered about Matt.

He told her _everything_...or he used to. But tonight was the first time she had learned that her brother was friends with the famous Takashi Shirogane, a soldier almost as prodigious as the Holt boy himself. From the way they acted around each other, though, even though there was a little bit of awkwardness, Pidge could see that there was a very strong connection there. She could see that Matt was trying his best to make it less awkward, which meant that this friendship was something really important to him.

But...if Shiro was her brother’s best friend, what had kept Matt from mentioning him at all?

 


	6. Latte VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please, Matt, anything but Sharknado,” Pidge groaned as she watched her brother go through her list of digital movies. “I think we watch it every time you come over. Can’t we watch something else? Like rewatch Firefly or even The Fifth Element? I would even be one hundred percent down with watching Trollhunter again. Just not Sharknado.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI IT'S BEEN FOREVER.
> 
> I hope you like this chapter, and I apologize for the delay! I have exactly two excuses: Work sucks (especially during the holiday season) and Final Fantasy XV, bitchessssss! (I've been avoiding beating it for about 3 weeks now because I've been in the final segment since like, the ninth day I had the game. Oops.)
> 
> I actually wanted to get this up by Christmas as a gift for y'all but it just WOULDN'T HAPPEN. I got stumped. But alas, one day later and I manage to wrap it up and throw it at you. I didn't hit all the points I wanted to, but I hit the important ones, so have fun!
> 
> The plot thickens.

 

“Please, Matt, anything but _Sharknado_ ,” Pidge groaned as she watched her brother go through her list of digital movies. “I think we watch it every time you come over. Can’t we watch something else? Like rewatch _Firefly_ or even _The Fifth Element_? I would even be one hundred percent down with watching _Trollhunter_ again. Just not _Sharknado_.”

“C’mon, Katie-cat,” Matt whined childishly, turning his bright eyes on her. “Don’t insult a modern cinematic masterpiece like that!”

Her tone flat, Pidge said, “If you call it a masterpiece again, I will actually kick you out of my apartment.”

The older sibling pouted at the younger, but she would not give way. She probably wouldn’t _leave_ him outside, which he knew well, but it was getting chilly and Matt was incredibly averse to the cold. He was probably deciding if insisting on _Sharknado_ was worth five or ten minutes out in the weather.

He apparently decided that _no_ , defending and rewatching his favorite almost cult classic sci-fi flick wasn’t worth braving the outdoors.

Matt groaned and flopped back on her couch, tugging three blankets over himself while he pouted at her as if his expression would change her mind. No sir, not _this_ time—she had been forced to watch it one too many times because she’d caved to that face, but not anymore. He’d been back for a few months now, and she had built up an immunity.

It took a while of the duo silently staring at each other, but he finally seemed to understand that her stance would not change.

“Fine,” he murmured dejectedly, “Let’s watch _Trollhunter_ , then, you party pooper.”

Triumphantly, Pidge reached over to where Matt had discarded the remote and snatched it up. She scrolled through the options until she found it, and with one more glance at her childish older brother, she made a show of selecting the movie.

Matt let out a long, exaggerated sigh before sitting up and reaching for his hot chocolate as she clambered next to him on the couch and tugged some of the cover over herself. When she was settled, she made grabby hands towards her own mug on the table. Snorting and calling her a kid—as if he was one to talk—Matt retrieved her drink and passed it over, and she wrapped her fingers around it to revel in the warmth. Her brother dropped a lazy arm around her shoulder and they leaned against each other as the film started.

They would end up bickering somewhere during the movie—probably about the plausibility of certain technological elements or the scientific possibility of the sun actually turning trolls to stone—but all she could care about right now was the fact that her brother was here with her and that she was enjoying every moment of it.

And throughout the course of the night, after another sci-fi movie that they tore apart with scathing remarks and logical evaluations, they talked about her classes, her job, her friends, and even played a few video games. Matt really excelled at _anything_ he could use strategy for, and Pidge was hard-pressed to keep up with him. She was much better at it than she’d been when they were younger, but he still held the keen edge and inched out ahead of her almost every time when it came to a battle of wits.

After a while, though, curiosity started to get the better of her. The questions she’d had when Matt first arrived with Shiro were coming back, and she wanted answers.

_How do you two know each other? And how long have you known each other? Did you meet each other in school, or after that? Were you together in the war? Is the war where you actually met?_

She didn’t want to push too far, but she couldn’t resist the urge to poke, just a little.

During a lull in conversation, after Matt had won a match in the game they’d been playing and they had just settled in for the final movie of the night, Pidge worked up the nerve to ask, “You really surprised me today, Matt. How long have you known Shiro? He’s your best friend and I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about him, so I’m kind of curious.”

It took Matt several moments to answer her, and for a while Pidge thought she had overstepped. In fact, she was in the process of wracking her brain for solutions when he finally let out a little, albeit forced, laugh.

“Ha, c’mon, I probably mentioned him a few times. We knew each other back in the academy, but we didn't start talking much until...after. I was kind of surprised when we both deployed at the same time,” he reached over to ruffle her hair, clearing his throat. “Anyway, we're gonna miss the movie. And besides, I only just met one of your best friends today, so we're even.”

Pidge knew when to relent, and just pretended to be upset as she waved his hand away from further displacing her already untamed hair.

“Yeah, yeah,” she conceded, turning her attention back to the movie.

She had learned a few things, though. The first was that Matt and Shiro hadn't been particularly close at the academy, and the second was that they had been deployed at the same time. The third, which was still just a mounting suspicion, was that he had been in the same camp as the Holts for the last several years.

She wasn't going to pry more now, because Matt mentioning his deployment was already more than he'd said to her about his entire experience in the field since he'd made it home. And he still faltered, even though she could tell he had tried so hard to say it casually, likely testing his own limits. He’d done well, and she didn’t have a right to push him for more.

Instead, she stole a few of her blankets back from him, and even ate one of the marshmallows out of his hot chocolate, and playfully bickered with him until they both ended up falling asleep in a jumble on the sofa.

* * *

 

“No! No, no, no, no, no,” Hunk brandished his fork at Matt across the little booth they were sharing before he had to go to work. Surprisingly, Pidge had Sunday off this week, and she got to spend lunch watching how Hunk had adapted to Matt’s presence with alarming ease. “Three years ago that would have been the best option, but you can’t forget the Bartellini Project from last year. What the battery they developed lacks in overall power, it more than makes up for in stability, especially considering the already unstable elements of the particle accelerator in general.”

“The Bartellini Project, huh...I’ve read about it a little, but I’ll look into it more,” Matt looked down at his coffee, deep in thought. She could practically see the cogs in his brain turning. “You say that it increases the stability?”

“ _Yeah_. It makes it like, super-mega-stable compared to the other top energy sources. Dude, I have all the research and the paper and everything on my computer. I could email it to you later, and then you can tell me what you think about applying that battery to a particle accelerator to increase the function and stability. From what I figure, it’s at least an eight percent increase in stability over the other leading nuclear power sources, and that increases functionality by about twenty-two percent, give or take a few percent for all the other variables. And—”

“ _Huuuuunk,_ ” Lance whined from the counter, flopping over it. “I can hear all your techno-babble from over here, man. Don’t you ever stop?”

There was a teasing glint in his blue eyes and a mischievous smirk playing at the corner of his mouth that Pidge would never trust.

“Now, now, Lance, m’boy,” Coran appeared from the back, clapping a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Hunk is a paying customer right now, so be more friendly!”

“This _is_ friendly!” the accused nearly wailed, straightening up instantly. “I’m being a best bro by telling my man Hunk that he babbles too much about all that nerd stuff. And Hunk, if you don’t stop rambling about technical mumbo-jumbo, you’ll never be as popular with the ladies as I am! You should take a leaf from my book!”

“The only _ladies_ he’s popular with are all the aunties who think he’s charming,” Pidge drawled, speaking loudly and directing her words to Hunk. “Any woman our age thinks he’s a douche, Hunk, so do us all a favor and don’t act like him. Leave his leaf right where it belongs and don’t take it out of the book. The world can’t handle another Lance.”

Hunk snorted, Coran looked a little confused, and Lance screeched indignantly, a stream of incoherent Spanish that Pidge struggled to comprehend.

“Katie’s _savage_ ,” Matt stage-whispered, and Hunk had to slap his hand to his mouth to stifle the actual laughter. Coran scolded Lance, coaxing him back to work while he continued muttering in Spanish, and Pidge herself snorted.

“Of course I am,” she drawled. “Someone has to cut him down to size.”

“Only because you’re so short, _Pidgisita_!” Lance called out from his prison behind the counter. It was Pidge’s turn to scowl, and she had half-risen from her seat before Matt unceremoniously tugged her back down. She heard Coran start scolding Lance yet again, but her brother took her attention away from thoughts of decapitating her part Cuban friend or taking him out at the knees.

“Down, Katie-cat,” his voice was teasing, and she turned her frown his direction. “Now don’t look at me like that. You brought it on yourself, you know? Anyway, Hunk, you’re talking about this battery. Would it, say, increase the stability and functionality of that prototype that you and Katie built together that’s just gathering dust in her closet back home?”

Hunk blinked in surprise before his eyes widened.

“Holy Crow, I never thought about that,” he mused aloud. “I mean, I kind of did, especially since we _were_ just talking about particle accelerators, but I’d almost forgotten about that prototype. It was an old project—wow, Pidge, I can’t believe you still _have_ it—but now that I think about it...even if we didn’t change anything, swapping the energy source might bring it just a bit closer to functional. Obviously we could make some other tweaks and...yeah, yeah! You might be onto something, man!”

Hunk started talking specifics and Pidge tuned out, licking her finger to gather crumbs from her muffin and popping them in her mouth. It wasn’t as if she was lost, because she knew the device just as well as Hunk’s. It had taken them many late nights and dubiously acquired parts that Hunk raised eyebrows at but never questioned, not to mention the spacious basement of the Holt family home. And it had been their last project together before Hunk and Lance had been able to proceed to the University ahead of her. Of course she knew it inside and out. She’d only stared at it for the two years she had to wait, bored to death with Academy work and worried sick about her father and brother.

It still amazed her that her brother had never met Hunk, considering that she’d been teammates with he and Lance since she was twelve and they were fourteen, and her father and brother had been announced MIA when she was sixteen. Four whole years of friendship, and even though she’d met their families, they hadn’t met hers.

Pidge was glad that circumstances were different now. A friendship between her brother and the incredibly cheerful and kind Hunk could help, both with her brother’s post-traumatic stress disorder and with the entire field of robotics.

“ _Huuuunk_!” Lance’s voice rang out, snapping Pidge out of her thoughts. “Ol’ buddy, ol’ pal, it’s five minutes until you’re on the clock!”

Coran must have gone back into the office, because Lance was dropping his arms around Hunk’s shoulders and relaxing his weight onto the larger guy. He looked positively ridiculous and mopey, and Pidge snorted. A grin teased the corners of her brother’s lips, and Hunk started with a surprised, “What do you mean, _five minutes?!_ You were supposed to remind me at _ten_!”

“I was busy with drinks for some lovely ladies, my man,” Lance shifted and winked at a table across the shop, where a girl with long blonde pigtails rolled her baby blue eyes and returned to her conversation.

Hunk started to stand, with apologies to Matt for cutting off so suddenly, as his movement dislodged Lance from his back. Lance stumbled, whining and cursing a little in Spanish as Hunk shook Matt’s hand enthusiastically before bustling back towards the counter to clock in and get his apron and visor. With a long sigh, Lance reached forward to ruffle Pidge’s hair and said to her brother, “Sorry ‘bout interrupting, man! Duty calls, though. And Hunk would murder me if I let him clock in late—he’s got this thing about being on time.”

“It’s not a problem,” Matt’s eyes crinkled in the corners, and Pidge could tell he was enjoying her friends. Maybe she’d invite him around more, especially if it made him smile like that.

And maybe if it meant she’d see Shiro more, too.

 _No, stop, don’t think like that,_ she scolded herself internally, surprised. She already saw him at least four mornings of the week and in that Monday night class. That was almost more than she saw Hunk and Lance, despite having them in more classes _and_ their Garrison training. The people she _should_ be wanting to see more were her family. And she _did_ want to see her Mom and Dad again, even though she’d just come back to school and her apartment from her two weeks off during the winter holidays.

But somehow, her brother’s admittedly handsome best friend, whom she had only recently met without knowing that he was her brother’s friend, was stealing some of that attention.

“Okay, Lance, I’m clocked in!” Hunk called, and she glanced up, shaking herself to clear her head, to find him tying his apron. Then, with a mischievous grin he had to have learned from Lance, he added, “And _you_ , my friend, can do your job and bring my tray back.”

Lance let out a mightily exaggerated groan but started to gather the dishes from their table. Matt grinned cheekily at him and placed his own dishes on the tray, and with a smirk Pidge followed suit. After trying, and failing, to glare at the Holt siblings, Lance laughed. His laugh was pleasant and smooth when he wasn’t being arrogant, and Pidge started to laugh with him. Matt’s chuckles soon followed, though they were softer and more subdued.

But laughter was good, and she committed her brother’s smile to memory.

* * *

 

Matt left around six, with a playful jibe at Pidge to do her homework. She bid him farewell and told him to have a safe trip home, with lots of love and sappy stuff that he called her out on before hugging her and being serious when he said his goodbyes.

“Take care of yourself, Katie-cat,” he told her, still squeezing her. “Eat right, and get enough sleep. Seriously. Buy some fresh veggies and meat instead of instant stuff sometimes. It’ll make you feel a lot better. And besides, if you don’t, Mom will have _both_ our heads.”

“Oh, please,” her tone was muffled by Matt’s jacket, “I’m an adult, you know. I already take care of myself, so I don’t need you to tell me that. And besides, how can Mom reasonably expect you to babysit me when you live at home? With her?”

“Fine,” Matt snorted, pulling her back to hold her at arm's length, looking her up and down for a moment before grinning and then teasing her once again, “Mom will have _your_ head, then.”

Pidge rolled her eyes, feigning exasperation, but wriggled out of his grasp to hug him again. “Sure, whatever, Mom’ll have my head. Only she _won’t_ because I can _take care of myself_!”

“Alright, alright!”

With one more squeeze, the siblings parted. Pidge watched as Matt clambered into the waiting taxi and waved when he turned to do the same, smiling.

Maybe it had something to do with losing him once before, but any time she had to watch him go made her chest ache. She didn’t like watching her brother as he disappeared from her sight, and she was always edgy until he texted her that he was home. Pidge kind of felt like it might be a little overprotective of her, but she also thought she had the right. Her brother had always been and would forever be her very best friend, although Hunk and Lance were definitely a close second and third, and she would always be worried for him.

She took a deep breath and watched the taxi round the corner before she slipped back inside her apartment, rubbing some of the chill from her arms as she made her way towards the small kitchen. She had to think about eating something for dinner, and if she didn’t do it so soon after Matt had teased her about it and reminded her, there was the possibility that she’d forget to do it at all.

 _I’m really bad at feeding myself,_ she admitted silently, rummaging through her cabinets. She forgot to eat more often than she should and she didn’t buy groceries nearly as often as she needed to. Even now, she was pretty short on ingredients for pretty much anything, which was part of why they’d gone to _Café Altea_ for lunch. Nothing looked particularly appealing, either.

Her phone chimed then, and she fetched it from her pocket to bring up the text from her brother.

_You working on homework yet?_

For a second, Pidge stared blankly at the message, then groaned aloud, pressing the reply box so she could tap out her own message.

_You just left ten minutes ago, Matt. Don’t nag me about boring things so soon!_

She dropped her phone on the counter, reaching up to open her last upper cabinet, and grinned triumphantly at the sight. The phone went off again but she ignored it temporarily in favor of reaching for what was undoubtedly going to be her meal.

Chicken flavored ramen.

Matt would definitely not approve, especially after telling her that she needed to eat some more veggies and fresh food, but it was there and perhaps most importantly, it was quick and easy. She wouldn’t have to slave over the stove for very long, and she’d have something to eat rather than nothing. It was perfect.

Another ding from her phone sounded just as she closed the cabinet and she laughed a little, reaching for the phone.

_It’s never too early to do your homework, Katie-cat._

_Or eat dinner. Are you eating? Have you eaten?_

Her simple response to that was, _I’m fixing food now._

As soon as she’d hit send on that, she once more put her phone aside and crouched to find the pan she used for ramen. With minimum clinking and clanking, she extricated it from its brethren—she blamed Hunk for all the cooking utensils in her apartment when she rarely ever used them—and turned to the sink. While she went about preparing to cook the ramen, she heard her brother’s text tone a few more times but continued her task.

The sooner she cooked her food, the sooner she could eat, and the sooner she did that, she could start on homework, if only to get Matt to stop bugging her about it. And then, when all of that was done, she could work on the Rover II again.

She couldn’t wait until she had the prototype finished so she could show Matt how far she’d come since they had built Rover together.

* * *

 

Working on four hours of sleep was rough, as usual, and Pidge had silently lamented her late night all through her morning shift. Even Shiro had noticed when he came in for his café au lait, like usual, and noted with a kind smile, “You look tired, Pidge. Working on your personal project again?”

Stifling a yawn, she nodded, punching his order into the register as she asked, just to double check, “The usual?”

“Please,” he already had a crisp new five in his hand, and he offered her the bill when she totaled the order. “How’s the progress going?”

“It’s going,” she laughed a little drily, reminiscing about the hours she’d slaved over the small wiring error last night. “I made a really simple mistake that screwed _everything_ over last night, and it took hours to fix it. But how about you? Did you get all your math finished this weekend?”

She counted out his change and offered it back to him with a tired smile. He opened his mouth to respond, grinning and reaching forward to accept the money, when instead of speaking, his teeth clacked together and his grin turned to a grimace. Shiro hissed in pain, pulling his hand back and reaching up to grasp his shoulder—the shoulder she’d noticed him favoring on Saturday.

“Shiro, are you okay?!” she asked, discarding his change on the counter momentarily and reaching forward, although she had no idea what she intended to do. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he forced out through gritted teeth, “’s nothing, Pidge, don’t worry about it.”

Even with the new knowledge that he’d definitely been in the war with her brother, and the slight feeling that maybe she shouldn’t pry, she couldn’t leave it at that. Not when he was breathing heavily, struggling to steady his breathing as he relaxed his grip on his shoulder—no, she noted, it was definitely his bicep—and definitely not after having noticed it the day before, too.

“It’s not _nothing_ ,” she lowered her voice, noting the eyes of a middle aged woman on them. Everyone else was too tired to pay them much attention, or had turned away as soon as Shiro had insisted there was nothing wrong. “It’s been bothering you for a while, hasn’t it? You were rubbing your arm on Saturday, too.”

He let a short, sharp laugh, and then said, “You’re really observant, aren’t you? Don’t worry, Pidge, it’s nothing. I just…” he paused for a while, and then with a shaky breath, he continued, “it’s just my prosthetic. I’m not completely used to it yet, and it’s giving me problems. I’ve got an appointment in a couple of weeks with a Garrison specialist, and they’ll sort it out then.”

 _Prosthetic_.

She’d never noticed before, so she felt a lot less observant than Shiro probably thought she was. But instead, she’d never asked why he never took his hoodie off, and it was natural for everyone to wear long sleeves in the winter so it hadn’t even occurred to her to ask about his weird glove, or why he only wore it on his right hand. Now that she knew what to look for, she could see the metal gleam, the telltale signs that it wasn’t flesh and bone underneath the material, and she felt foolish. He was probably self-conscious about it.

“Y-you should go see the specialist sooner,” she found herself fumbling for words, furrowing her brow in worry. “It really shouldn’t be hurting you, even if it _is_ a new prosthetic.”

It was true. She’d had to look into prostheses for a project last semester, so she knew that it shouldn’t cause such severe pains. Especially not if it was Garrison tech, because their military-grade prostheses were top-notch. There wasn’t a company in the world that could boast better prosthetic limbs than the Garrison. She’d looked, and they had the best track record with them, barring a bit of research into old Altean tech that had probably been lost with the civilization a hundred years ago.

“It’ll be fine,” he smiled, though it was definitely forced, as he reached with his left hand to gather the change on the counter. “Really. But thanks for worrying, Pidge, I really appreciate it.”

“Uh huh,” skepticism laced her tone, and she kept a wary eye on him as she reached for a cup to make his coffee. It was probably a miracle that another customer hadn’t walked in while she had been internally panicking over his well-being. “I’ll believe you this time, Shiro, but if it keeps up like that you’re gonna have to get it checked sooner.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You’d better. It’s pretty sound advice, if I do say so myself.”

Shiro laughed again, agreeing, and she actually heard real traces of amusement in his tone this time. Whatever had caused his momentary pain had lapsed, for now, but Pidge was still loathe to let him off without checking it out.

She kept mostly silent then, unable to fill the air with their usual chatter after the revelations of the morning. Shiro was in pain, and she had just learned that his right arm was a prosthetic. He’d probably lost it in the war, and maybe even in the camp, if he’d been with Matt and her father. Somehow, the knowledge didn’t satisfy her. She wanted to know everything—how he lost his arm, when he lost it, if he’d been around her family when it had happened.

Instead of asking, she offered him his drink over the counter and he accepted it with a grin that was noticeably less forced this time and a subdued, “Thanks, Pidge.”

“No problem,” Pidge offered a small smile, but could do no more. It was a lot of information to take in, and despite her intense curiosity, she had to be careful not to pry. If he was even half as haunted by the war as her brother was, prying could be a lot more harm than help.

“Oh, by the way,” he paused as he turned to go and she focused her attention on him. Sheepishly, he asked, “Could you, uh, not tell your brother about that? I don’t want him to worry about me anymore.”

Conflicting feelings of warmth at his consideration towards her brother and concern for Shiro filled her, but she found herself agreeing, “Yeah, sure.”

It was kind of a weak agreement, but he smiled and thanked her again. This time, his smile was almost sad, and it made her heart clench a little. And then, without another word, he slipped out of the shop. She watched him turn at the door, sipping at his drink and heading for his first class of the day, and regretted that she hadn’t been able to say or do something more for him.

 _A little at a time, Katie_ , she told herself, taking a deep breath.

Just two nights ago, she had learned for sure that Shiro had been in the war, like she’d suspected all along. Now she had learned that he’d lost his arm in the war somehow, or at least she assumed it was in the war if his prosthetic was new, like he’d claimed. There was no official documentation from his early star pilot days of a prosthetic arm, so it couldn’t have been back then.

Soon, she was convinced that the pieces would fall into place. She just had to make sure that her curiosity didn’t get the better of her before then.


	7. Latte VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He smiled, but it was pinched, and she noticed that he was using his left hand to position his right arm on the desk. Pidge felt her frown deepen. If he was having trouble moving his arm, it meant the nerve attachments on the prosthetic weren’t functioning. That didn’t sound right, especially for a Garrison-issued prosthesis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI YES IT'S BEEN FOREVER, AND I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE FOR THAT.
> 
> I got busy with the general big bang (which I wrote Klance for) and with work and I just...was down for a while about a lot of things, including a lack of creativity and even a period where I almost stopped writing Shidge entirely because I couldn't handle all the negativity.
> 
> But y'know what? Fanfiction is for things you can't have in canon, and I already acknowledge age gaps here anyway. I like the age gap because it present a challenge I can explore, and I feel like exploring it will help me get better at writing different dynamics. So I'm going to embrace it. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys like it, and I'm soooooo sorry for the long wait! <3

 

When Pidge arrived to her shift–a little late because of a traffic accident she hadn’t expected and a patch of ice she’d slipped in on her way over–she was mildly surprised to find everything open and ready. She was only five minutes late, after all. But as she darted through the doors, calling a, “Sorry I’m late, Coran!” to precede her, she could smell coffee already brewing.

She passed the lockers to peek out and found Coran looking her way, standing beside–

“Keith?”

He grinned sheepishly at her and she noted the  _ Café Altea _ apron he was wearing. Coran clapped him on the shoulder with a wide grin.

“Pidge, m’dear! Never fear, never fear. Keith and I have opened this morning, but be more careful about being on time tomorrow, because I’ll be later and it’ll just be the two of you.”

Pidge gaped a little, and then grinned. “You got the job!”

“It’s my first day,” Keith shrugged a little, and Coran chuckled, curling his mustache around his finger. “I’ll be mornings, like you.”

“We noticed that the morning rush was getting a little more out of hand lately than it used to,” Coran cut in again, pouring himself a cup of plain coffee. “Allura and I made the decision to add an additional person to the morning shift, and Keith’s application came in at just the right time. Make sure to train him well, Pidge!” Coran stepped forward to ruffle her hair and Pidge let out a disgruntled yelp, flailing to escape the gesture. 

“Coran! Stop it!” she protested, weakly. He was like the extremely eccentric uncle that you just can’t stay mad at.

“Oh, don’t fret so much, dear girl! It’ll give you wrinkles far before your time, you know! Now, do get ready! I have some paperwork in the office I must see to before Allura gets in this afternoon, so I want you to help Keith learn the ropes!”

“It won’t give me wrinkles!” she snapped, self-consciously rubbing a finger between her brows with a petulant frown. She shook her head and glanced out at the floor, which was empty, and back to Keith. He was grinning at her exchange with Coran and she pointed a threatening finger at him, which only seemed to amuse him more. “I’m watching you, Kogane. Now don’t panic when I leave you alone, because I need to get my apron and my visor and put my coat up and all that jazz. It’ll be a minute or two.”

“I’m not gonna panic, Pidge,” he scoffed. “Who do you think I am?”

With a grin, Pidge teased, “I think you’re the newbie.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. She smiled back and dismissed herself, ducking into the locker room to get ready for her shift, and Keith went back to familiarizing himself with some of the things behind the counter. Pidge knew from experience that the laminated guides on the counters would be extremely useful when he started filling orders for customers. And eventually, he might memorize most of them like she had.

She was still going to take any chance she found to tease him, though.

When Pidge returned to the floor, there was still no sign of a customer, and Keith was reading a drink guide on the counter next to the espresso machine. She slipped past him to grab a towel and look busy, as usual, by wiping down the already clean counter.

“When you get used to working here, you’ll have to get used to looking busy,” she said, feeling his eyes on her back. “Allura won’t tolerate standing around, so you’ve got to always keep in motion. Something about people working hard raises sales?” Pidge shrugged. “It’s always easy to pretend to wipe down the counter or bus the tables again, so it’s not too bad.”

Keith grunted in understanding, and Pidge snorted. Such eloquence.

The bell chimed before Pidge could say anything else, and she lifted her head to watch the first customer of the day as she entered the shop.

“Welcome to  _ Café Altea _ , how can I help you today?”

* * *

 

Classes were boring. Pidge barely gave any attention to the engineering lecture and had finished the calculus assignment for next class before the professor had even finished explaining to the rest of the class how to do the problems. She spent the rest of the time idly scratching down notes for the Rover II, pulling her assignment back over those whenever the lecturer came too close. By the time she was able to leave, she was ready to grab her quick, late lunch and go to the stupid three hour long history class.

At least she could talk to Shiro some more, she mused as she munched on her turkey and cheese, still distractedly making notes for her drone. 

If she could get her hands on a couple specialized wires that she  _ knew _ the university kept upstairs in the upper level student and faculty labs, she’d be able to open a wider range of functions...but Matt had made her promise not to do anything like obtaining parts for her personal projects through questionable means. She supposed that  _ acquiring _ parts that were in locked drawers in the Garrison’s labs was considered questionable to her brother, and she sighed, tapping her pen on the page.

If she used an extra one in a project and it slipped past the instructor’s inspections, she might be able to get it back to her apartment. That was probably the most feasible way to do it, but they had yet to start on projects that used their lock-and-key components for the semester.

While she was pondering possible ways to acquire the wires she needed in less questionable means, Pidge finished off her lunch. With a quick glance at her phone for the time, she let out a dissatisfied groan. She had ten minutes until class, and she had so much more to put down in her notes for the Rover II. She didn’t want to push her luck, though, because Pidge knew her own tendency to get lost in her personal projects better than anyone else did. 

With that in mind, Pidge packed the notebook away, reluctantly, and made her way towards the lecture hall. If she got there before class, and if the previous one had cleared out fast enough, maybe she could squeeze in and brainstorm a little more. There had to be a more feasible way to get the wires she needed, and those would definitely increase the battery’s longevity. The older wires had too much drain, and if she wanted Rover to be top notch she  _ had _ to have the parts for it. She could do a lot without them, but there was still that little bit of efficiency that only top-of-the-line parts could give it.

She did manage to get a few more notes in, even before the telltale sound of Shiro sitting down next to her.

“Hey,” she said, without looking up.

“Hi, Pidge.”

His tone gave her pause, and she lifted her head. He’d sounded incredibly weary, and while he’d seemed a little off when he’d stopped for a quick coffee on the go this morning, he’d assured her he was fine. Her instincts had been right, though. Shiro was a little pale, and she frowned.

“Are you alright?” she blurted, pushing her notebook aside as the rest of the students trickled in.

“What?” he raised a brow in question. “Of course I am, Pidge.” 

He smiled, but it was pinched, and she noticed that he was using his left hand to position his right arm on the desk. Pidge felt her frown deepen. If he was having trouble moving his arm, it meant the nerve attachments on the prosthetic weren’t functioning. That didn’t sound right, especially for a Garrison-issued prosthesis.

“You need to see the specialist,” Pidge said lowly, glancing to make sure their classmates weren’t paying too much attention. “If the nerve attachments have malfunctioned, someone  _ needs _ to take a look at it, Shiro. They can’t leave it like that for too long, or it could start causing problems. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a fever right now.”

He shook his head. “I’m fine, Pidge. Really. I’m sorry for worrying you, but it’ll pass. It’s happened before.”

That wasn’t a comfort to her, and she opened her mouth to say as much only to be interrupted by the entrance of Dr. Newman. Never had she been more frustrated for a class to start than she was in that moment.

“ _ This isn’t over _ ,” she hissed instead, and Shiro offered her that forced grin in return. 

True to her expectations, he found a way to escape shortly after class. She blamed it on the fact that Dr. Newman asked to speak with her at the front of the room at the end of his lecture. Thanks to Shiro, she hadn’t really been focusing on the lecture anyway, so she wondered if she had been called out so he could tell her to pay more attention. If it was that, he’d probably have said it in front of the rest of the class, though. 

It still didn’t change the fact that Shiro had bade farewell and practically booked it, and she scowled as she shoved everything back into her bag before heading down to the lector’s podium.

She’d get him to see someone about that arm no matter what, even if she had to  _ drag _ him there.

“Ah, Miss Holt,” Dr. Newman greeted, ticking a few things off on a paper in front of him as she neared, “thank you for staying.” He looked up, and she found herself meeting a pair of calculating eyes. “You’re aware of the pairs project that the class has to do this semester, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” she nodded, shifting her bag on her shoulder. “If there’s not enough people in the class, I can do it on my own–”

Dr. Newman held up a hand, shaking his head. “I wasn’t going to ask that of you, Miss Holt.”

“Pidge, sir,” she corrected, almost instinctively. She bit her lip when he looked at her, but he nodded before she could speak again.

“Yes, I’m sorry, Pidge. In any case, the reason I asked to speak with you concerns the pairs project. Since you already seem to know Shiro–no doubt because he and your brother were good friends–I was wondering if you would partner with him for the project.”

She knew Shiro through his routine visits to  _ Café Altea _ , but she didn’t correct the professor there. Had circumstances been a little different, she honestly probably would have met him as her brother’s best friend first...but then their deployment had happened. She was almost  _ positive _ that Shiro had been in the same camp as her father and brother all those years at this point, even if they wouldn’t say anything to her about it. Instead of commenting on that, though, she focused on Dr. Newman’s request.

“I’d be glad to, sir, but I think you should ask Shiro if he minds being stuck with me.”

The professor grinned. “I asked Shiro last week if he would mind pairing with you, and he responded the same way, telling me I should ask you. I just feel that it would be better than placing him in an...unequal pair.”

“With a fan,” Pidge translated bluntly.

“With a fan,” Dr. Newman agreed, amusement lacing his tone. “Then, shall I mark that as a  _ yes _ ?”

“I’ll work with Shiro,” Pidge nodded. It would give her more time to figure him out, and if he still hadn’t seen a prosthesis specialist she could convince him to do that, too. “As long as he hasn’t changed his mind about working with me by the time you assign pairs,” she added as an afterthought.

“Thank you, Pidge. If you have no questions, you’re free to go.”

“Thank you, sir,” Pidge nodded, and then made her way out of the lecture hall, rolling her shoulders as she did so. Talking to professors one-on-one was always as tiring as getting lectured by Allura for something that Lance had done. She was ready to swing by the shop and grab a muffin and then get back to work on Rover.

And, she mused, try to figure out how to convince Shiro to get his arm checked out.

* * *

 

Even Keith was worried, she learned the next morning. He’d noticed that Shiro was a little less energetic as he studied at the table he usually occupied, and told Pidge as much.

“His prosthetic,” Pidge answered simply.

“What?” Keith furrowed his brows. “What about it?”

“It’s bothering him, and he won’t go see a specialist about it. He said he’d wait until his checkup in a couple of weeks and won’t listen to reason.” She frowned, continuing to measure out the coffee grounds for the new pot of their seasonal blend she was currently brewing. “It’s been bothering him for almost a week now, at least.”

“Dammit, Shiro,” Keith cursed under his breath. He reached over to help Pidge and added, “I do know that he’s uncomfortable with the Garrison’s specialists, though. He won’t give me details, but something they did with his arm spooked him pretty bad.”

The news surprised Pidge, but she supposed it was to be expected. It was no wonder Shiro was avoiding all of her demands to see someone. It could be the shock of losing his arm and having to deal with the fact that there was a prosthetic in its place, but his health was still a major concern. If the nerves were inflamed from incorrect treatment, it could cause some damage. 

She felt bad for pushing it, if he was uncomfortable, but he really did need the medical attention. But maybe…

“Do you think he trusts me?” she asked suddenly, and then felt her cheeks redden as she stepped away from the coffee machine. Keith looked at her from where he’d started wiping down the counter, and she avoided meeting his eyes.

“I think he probably trusts you more than anyone aside from me and maybe your brother,” Keith answered slowly. “Why?”

She frowned a little, busying her hands with cleaning one of the machines for the third time in an hour. “Well...if he’s uncomfortable with seeing a specialist, I was wondering if maybe he’d let me take a look at it. I did a lot of research for a project last semester, and made a schematic for a rewired prosthetic with full functionality, so I think I could at least tell if there’s something really wrong with his arm. If he’d let me look.”

With a glance over at Shiro’s table, where Shiro was hunched over his math textbook and looking far more haggard than Pidge had yet seen him, Keith nodded.

“Try,” he said simply. “I’m not sure he’ll let you, but please try.”

That was probably the closest to begging that Keith Kogane would  _ ever _ get, and Pidge wasn’t about to disappoint him. She was worried, and it sounded like Keith was every bit as concerned as she was, if not more.

Pidge kind of wished she hadn’t promised Shiro she wouldn’t tell Matt.

Before she could make her way over and find a way to suggest it to Shiro himself, the door chimed and a small group entered, talking loudly and boisterously amongst themselves. How they could be so cheerful when it was only almost ten, Pidge would never understand, but she had Keith take the orders while she started making the drinks. He was learning, but he wasn’t very quick at it yet, so Pidge would get the head start and he’d help her finish up. That was how she’d learned when she first started at the shop, and it seemed to work so she wasn’t about to change it up.

To her dismay, Shiro had silently packed up and taken his leave while they dealt with the new group, and she and Keith shared a determined glance.

* * *

 

It took until Thursday before Pidge was able to bring the idea up to Shiro, because she always seemed to miss him, or he slipped away before she could say something. He hadn’t even been to get a coffee on Wednesday morning, and she had Thursday morning off–hopefully Keith had been able to handle it–so she didn’t get that chance, either. But on Thursday, right after a rather humiliating military team drill, where Lance called out the wrong orders at the wrong time and ‘crashed’ the imaginary ship, she found him.

Pidge was glad she did.

She’d just left the locker room with about two hours to spare until her next class, and was planning on just going to an upstairs lab that was restricted to upper level students just so she could do some planning in peace, when she spotted a figure down the hall. He was leaning heavily on the wall, and just from his posture she could tell he wasn’t feeling too hot, but it wasn’t until he paused and leaned his back against the wall that she recognized the scar across his nose or the shock of white that made up his bangs.

_ Shiro _ .

“Shiro, are you alright?!” she asked, breaking into a jog to make up the short distance between them.

“‘m fine, thanks,” he nearly grunted through his teeth. Sweat was beading his forehead and he was inching his left hand away from his right bicep, where Pidge was ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure his prosthetic arm was connected. She caught the motion anyway.

“You haven’t seen anyone,” she observed, wanting to reach out but restraining herself. “For the arm, I mean.”

“I told you–”

“That it’s fine, that you’d wait, yeah.” She crossed her arms. “It’s not healthy to ignore it anymore, Shiro. Keith said that you’re a little...nervous about seeing a specialist, so I’ll tell you what. I’ve done extensive research on prosthesis, so we’re going to go up to one of the upper level labs that I booked for the afternoon and you’re going to let me look at it. I won’t do anything to it unless you agree to it, but at least let me take a look at it Shiro.  _ Please _ .”

He inhaled, slowly. His breath was shaking, and her heart squeezed. His exhale was just as slow and measured, as if he had to really focus on his breathing.

“It shouldn’t hurt this much,” she spoke softly, trying to dial back the harsh tone she’d used before. “You know it shouldn’t. So please, Shiro.”

A few long moments passed, and then Shiro nodded, squeezing the sleeve of the hoodie he was wearing in a white-knuckled grip. “Y-yeah.”

Relief flooded through her. At least he was willing to let her take a look, but she hoped that he’d follow her advice if she decided that he needed to see someone  _ now _ . From the way he was acting, she figured he’d need the attention soon. She wasn’t certified yet for anything except the design she’d submitted in the fall semester, and that was an entirely different ball game.

At least that notebook was still shoved in her bag, though. Even if it wasn’t the same, all of her notes on Garrison prostheses would come in handy, and it was all in the notebook she’d been drawing and researching for the Rover II in.

“Follow me, then,” she found her voice and motioned for him to come along, and he fell in step a little behind her.

He followed silently, and despite the other students they passed in the halls, they were the only ones on the elevator Pidge climbed into. As they headed up to the fourth floor, the only sound she could hear above the mechanical whirring of the lift was Shiro’s labored breathing, and she grimaced a little. She knew he was in pain, and that he had been for a week or more. Pidge could only hope he’d let her help him however she could, even if it meant sending him to see one of the specialists.

Pidge led him to the lab and used her key card to open the door, holding it and gesturing for Shiro to go inside first. He did so, and Pidge directed him to a table near the back cabinets. It was her favorite spot, and it gave her quick access to the tools she would need to look at it.

“I’m going to need you to take off your hoodie,” she told him, opening a cabinet and pulling out the tool kit with her name on it. “I need to see what tool I need to open the hatch and take a quick look at the wiring, and we need to make sure it’s not inflamed where the nerve attachments are.”

“Yeah,” his tone was soft, and she glanced up at him to see him gingerly reaching to take the hoodie off.

“Do you need any help?” she found herself asking in concern, watching as he winced a little at the motion. It was really bothering him, and she hated seeing him in so much pain.

“No, I think I’ve got it,” he said, tone pinched. “I just need a minute.”

She just nodded, opening her kit to thumb through the tools. She’d probably need that screw driver, and there was a little light she’d probably have to use to see the connections that were farther in the control panel, but all in all it would probably be pretty simple to open and look at. She might not need any of the other tools, especially since she didn’t exactly have the authority to ‘tamper’ with a Garrison prosthetic.

Shiro hissed in pain and when she turned her attention abruptly to him, she found him dropping the hoodie unceremoniously to the floor and reaching his hand up to hold his arm again, face screwed up in pain. Her heart throbbed at the sight, but in an instant she knew it wasn’t an infection. The scarring around his arm was old. Older than the three months or so that her father and brother had been back, at any rate.

“Go ahead and rest your arm on the table,” she instructed him, her voice as level as she could manage. He did so, grimacing again at the motion, and she wheeled her chair closer. “Alright...are you ready?” She asked earnestly, turning her gaze to him. “I’m going to open it and look inside, just to make sure everything is still connected and that the wires aren’t frayed. Are you ready, or do you want me to wait a minute?”

He took a shaky breath and then nodded. “Ready.”

Pidge nodded back. “Good. Here we go.”

She examined the arm closely for the first time, and she felt an uncomfortable lurch in the pit of her stomach. The metals and alloys used in the outer part of the arm itself were top-notch, but it wasn’t Garrison tech. There were violet accents and stylistic nuances that leaned towards Galra tech, and suddenly she wasn’t so sure she could help.

“You lost it in the internment camp,” she breathed, and the arm twitched under her stern gaze when Shiro jerked his head up in surprise. “This is Galra tech…”

“...Yeah.”

Pidge cleared her throat, and then carefully examined the surface for the latch. If it was anything like the rough design they’d given her class in the fall, it should be...there. It was  _ exactly _ like the rough model their class had been given last fall. The project to rewire a Galran prosthetic limb hadn’t just been a special test, then. They wanted ideas to help them with rewiring Shiro’s arm.

The timeline fit.

“Okay…” she murmured to herself, trying to focus on the task at hand. She peered at the mass of wires and circuitry in front of her, then frowned and shined her light in to see the connectors near the other side. And then she cursed.

“What is it?” Shiro’s voice held a tone of panic, and she inwardly cursed herself for scaring him.

"Those stupid idiots used the wrong adapters," her tone was calmer than she’d expected, though fury was racing through her. Pidge pushed herself to her feet and turned to the cabinet behind her in search of the components she’d need if Shiro actually let her help him. The tools were an easy fix, because every desk had an equipment drawer and spares were in the green cabinet at the back of the room, not to mention her own kit, but the wires and adapters she needed were kept in an electronically locked storage cabinet. 

It was technically stealing, but she didn't have the time to worry about it when someone was in pain because  _ her _ schematics had been implemented incorrectly.

His tone uncertain, Shiro started, "Are you planning to mess with it...?"

“Only if you let me,” she said stiffly, using her fob to unlock the cabinet with the wires in it. 

“Are you sure you should–”

She turned to face him, frowning. “Shiro, I am the only one aside from those specialists that is qualified to even  _ touch _ your arm right now. They used what they called the GP-19 schematic, right?”

“I–how did you know that? I was told it was classifed.”

" _ Bullshit _ ,” Pidge felt her anger rising. “I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that the advanced engineering courses were assigned a special project last year, but let me fill you in a little. They gave an assignment for those of us in the higher level electrical engineering courses to come up with a  _ hypothetical _ way to rewire a Galran prosthesis. The basic schematic of the arm they gave us matches yours almost exactly, Shiro, and the wires in there right now match the draft that I turned in for my final project.”

She took a deep breath and then forged onward. “If those bastards were going to use my wiring schematics, they should have told me! And they should have followed the instructions exactly! My draft states very clearly to use TA-732 connectors, and they replaced them with TA-570s. The 570s don't work with this type of wiring system." Pidge cursed. She was already on a roll, and she had every right to be angry. "Shiro, they even have a CA-220 connector in there. It completely fried the wire to your nerve component, so it’s no wonder it was giving you pain. What kind of  _ idiots  _ did they have working on your arm?! They should at least be able to follow the damn instructions!”

“Specialists worked on it,” he responded blankly, still looking up at Pidge in shock. “How do you...how did you...how do you know it’s your design?”

“I told you. It’s the GP-19. Alphabetically in the entire advanced level, I’m the 19th student, and they told us the project was the GP, Galran Prosthesis, project.” She pulled out the wires she needed and locked the cabinet once more. 

It might be considered  _ stealing _ , but she was willing to risk it. All of her actions were on camera, and she could go directly to the board with her dad’s connections and demand an explanation for why her intellectual property–her schematic–had been used without her knowledge or consent, and why it had been used incorrectly.

“Now,” she cut across the silence, putting the new wires on the table and looking very deliberately at him. She tried to soften her tone a little, though. “I can fix your arm. I am the only one that has the authority to, outside of the specialists that performed the initial rewiring process. I even have the old notebook with the original schematic with me because it’s the one I’ve been using for my personal project, too. But I won’t do anything if you don’t want me to, Shiro.”

“They really used your design?” he asked slowly, wincing a little when he shifted. 

“Incorrectly,” she repeated, but she stayed firm. 

“You can...really fix it?”

She nodded. “I’m positive I can fix it, Shiro. Just...trust me.”

His eyes examined her carefully. She had a feeling he was searching for a tell–some kind of sign to show that she was lying, because she was young and probably inexperienced with this actual process–but his shoulders slumped a little and he exhaled slowly. “If you say you can fix it, I believe you.”

She felt the relief flood her.

“You’ll let me?” she prodded carefully, not yet making a move.

“Please,” his words sounded almost...relieved. “Do what you have to, Pidge.”

The words were unspoken, but she heard them loud and clear.

_ I do trust you _ .

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for still reading! As always, hit me up on tumblr at [battleshidge](http://battleshidge.tumblr.com) or on my main blog at [panda013](http://panda013.tumblr.com)!


	8. Latte VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro took a steadying breath, the fingers of his left hand curling a little in his lap. He pointedly pulled his attention across the room, noting the various stations and the robotics equipment in the lab while fighting the nerves rising in his throat.
> 
> His arm had been bothering him for too long, though, and she was right when she said that something needed to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYO, NERDS.
> 
> Okay but seriously, I swear I didn't mean to take so long with this. Working full-time and going to school part-time and then working on...uh....4 different fandom things? really makes it tough to do things like this. 
> 
> Also...other factors. Which I'll talk about at the end bc I'm sure you want to see more of the story!!!

–

 

The first time Pidge insisted that Shiro needed to see someone for the pain in his arm, he was thankful that she dropped the subject pretty easily. She was, however, just as observant as he had thought, and he knew he’d have to be more careful around her.

And yet she still seemed to notice. When she started to talk to him before class, insisting again that he should go see the prosthetic specialists before his scheduled appointment, he somehow avoided a favorable reply and was saved, then, by the beginning of class. Her determined  _ this isn’t over _ , muttered so only he could hear, was pretty ominous, but Dr. Newman announced that he wanted to speak with Pidge at the end of class and he knew he would be in the clear as long as he left before they were done.

He felt a little bit like a coward, avoiding her when he could after that. But the one thing Shiro couldn’t deny was the pain that shot through his arm at the most inopportune moments. He would climb in bed at night and break out in a cold sweat, in too much pain to fall asleep and without proper dosages of pain medication to take the edge off.

The pain was enough to make him curl in on himself more than once, shaking beneath his sheets as the memory of the day he lost his limb flashed through his mind. There was a ring of onlookers, all Galra, and he was being held down while Sendak made some kind of speech. The words were mostly jumbled in Shiro’s fevered haze, months and maybe years later, but he did remember the message.

He’d succeeded far too often in their little gladiator matches, so they needed to give him a handicap to even the playing field.

The moment the axe cleaved through flesh, through bone, and into the block beneath it, vividly awash in red even in Shiro’s memories, his eyes had snapped open, his breath had come in short, rapid bursts, and his covers were far too stifling, too restricting, to stay under.

The sleepless nights came and went, and he started worrying Keith, too.

Thursday morning, he somehow managed to sidle into  _ Café Altea _ for his usual café au lait, finding Keith alone at the counter and already practicing how to look busy as he wiped the area next to the register. It was fairly quiet, and after a while, as Shiro struggled through some more of his math, Keith came over and placed his cup in front of him.

“We need to talk, Shiro.”

“Thanks,” he said as he wrapped his good hand around his coffee, feeling the comforting warmth seep through his fingers. “About what, Keith?”

“You need to see someone. For your arm.”

Shiro’s tired grin dropped to a frown, and he averted his gaze. Childishly, he mumbled, “You’ve been talking to Pidge.”

“I noticed something was wrong, and when I mentioned it she told me it was your arm. She’s right, you know. You can’t leave it like that.” Keith crossed his arms, and Shiro realized it had been a while–since before his sojourn in the internment camp, at least–since Keith had looked as stern as he did now. “I know they spooked you somehow, but if you don’t try to get it checked out, they won’t even be able to fix it.”

“I’ll think about it,” Shiro forced out, even though he knew he wouldn’t. By the way Keith’s eyes narrowed at him, he knew the younger man didn’t buy it either, but the door chimed and another customer stepped inside, and Keith was forced to return to work.

Shiro finished his drink quickly and packed up his work, being careful not to jostle his arm too much. It had been a particularly rough night last night, and his arm still ached. His everything ached.

It was just his luck, though, that Pidge would catch him at his weakest moment that day, when he paused to catch his breath against a wall. He could feel the sweat beading on his forehead, and he knew that she could see it, too, the moment she came beside him with worry filling her golden irises. And through some strange turn of events, he allowed her to lead him through the halls, into the elevator, and into the robotics lab she had apparently booked for the afternoon so she could get some work done in private.

He didn’t dare mention that she wouldn’t get any work done if she was looking at his arm. He was afraid she might drag him directly to the specialists, instead.

Shiro obeyed when she told him to take his hoodie off and he tried not to flinch away from her touch when she began examining his arm. He was pretty sure he’d failed, but once she started looking at it, with a focused expression and gentle hands, he forced himself to breathe in, slowly, and breathe out. 

This was  _ Pidge _ . Katie Holt. She was his best friend’s little sister, and she assured him she had some knowledge of prosthetic limbs, so he would believe her.

When a violent swear fell from her lips, he barely managed to keep his arm still. He wanted to pull it back and clutch it to his chest, wondering how bad it was but still unwilling to go to the specialists at the Garrison. If it was something detrimental to his health, even more than he already thought, though, Shiro would have no choice. 

His throat tight in panic, Shiro asked, “What is it?

Pidge said, in a tone that was a lot calmer than her curse, “Those  _ idiots _ used the wrong adapters.” 

She pushed herself to her feet, and Shiro could read in her body language that she was unhappy. In fact, if he could read people as well as he gave himself credit for, he’d even say that she was furious. And when she started pulling out tools before heading to a locked cabinet, he swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“Are you planning to mess with it…?” he forced out, trying to quell the shaking tone and the uncertainty. Another failure.

She held a fob to the door and it beeped open. “Only if you let me,” Pidge informed him, but her words were stiff. She was still mad, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t at him. Rather, Pidge was angry on his behalf because those Garrison prosthetic specialists had screwed something up in his arm.

But she was still a student. Gifted and bright, for being an advanced student whose family praised her genius, but still a student. No matter how much she had studied prostheses, Shiro wasn’t quite sure she should be mucking around in his arm.

He expressed his concerns, and then ended up completely flabbergasted.

After Pidge explained herself fully, everything started to add up. The fact that the Garrison had used their advanced students to find possible schematics to rewire his prosthetic, and had used one without telling the student involved, could have some pretty nasty repercussions. And he was pretty certain that she was technically ‘stealing’ the wires she was about to use, so that information would come in handy when she had to defend herself.

Somewhere during her explanation, though, Shiro found himself completely and utterly convinced. She knew enough classified details about the schematic that he didn’t think there was any way she could be wrong. When she asked him to trust her enough to actually fix it, he ended up breathing out a shaky, relieved, “Please. Do what you have to, Pidge.”

He  _ did _ trust her. He had probably  _ always _ trusted her, on some level, partially because of who she was and partially because she was a lot like her brother in some regards. Their stubbornness and their genius were mirror images of each other, after all.

And when he gave her the go ahead, he could see the tension leave her shoulders. Shiro wondered if she was just as relieved as he was, although it would be for much, much different reasons.

It was a little selfish, but his main reason was that he wouldn’t have to go see the Garrison’s specialists again. 

He’d had a functioning prosthetic, even though it was of Galran design and he understood that it posed a threat, but it hadn’t ever caused him pain. With that prosthetic, Shiro barely noticed that he’d lost his original arm, but as soon as the Garrison had messed with it, that had changed. At first it was the numbness, creeping up and making him acutely aware of the fake limb. Then had been the sensation of pins and needles, striking when he least expected. It kept him awake, sometimes, just tingling and causing general discomfort. Gradually, the pins and needles had turned into shooting pains whenever he moved abruptly or tried to lift his hand, and from there it had worsened. Now, Shiro fought a constant battle between giving in to the pain and somehow continuing to function.

More often than not, lately, he’d succumbed to the former.

“Did you hear me?” Pidge’s voice was sharp, and Shiro jerked his attention back to her.

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head. “What was that?”

“I’m about to detach the nerves,” Pidge’s brow was furrowed in concern. “I’m not licensed or anything, so I can’t put you under or numb it, so it’ll hurt for a few minutes. If you want to back out–”

“Do it,” Shiro interrupted, bracing himself. “Just...make it quick.”

He looked back to Pidge, really looked, for the first time in several minutes, and watched her swallow nervously. She bit her lip and nodded as she tugged at her gloves, and suddenly he realized that there was more to her hesitation than just her concern. Shiro cursed at himself. Of  _ course _ she was nervous. Probably just as, if not more so, than he was himself. Pidge may have designed his arm, but she had yet to actually implement her designs on a person before. She had no practical experience.

And yet...Shiro still trusted her.

“You’re not allowed to sue me because it hurts, or report me, or anything,” she warned, carefully shining a light on the area in question. “Just take some painkillers once we’re done and give it a few days for the agitation to go away, and you should be fine.”

He chuckled. He couldn’t help it, but hearing the tremor in her tone somehow made him even more comfortable. 

“I won’t sue,” he finally said, trying to ease the tension out of his shoulders, with some degree of success.

Pidge huffed, a sort of half-laugh that made Shiro smile. Shaking her head, Pidge looked back to his arm and reached for some of the tools she’d prepared. “If you’re absolutely sure,” she tried to sound reluctant, but he could see the quirk in the corner of her mouth.

“I’m sure.”

It was as if his agreement had made her nerves dissipate. He could practically feel the way she relaxed, how easily she switched her focus. Pidge’s full attention was on his arm, now, and as soon as she leaned forward, he could feel the professionalism she was oozing. If Shiro didn’t already know better, he would be positive that she had done something like this before, on an actual patient.

“Do you want a countdown, or do you want me to just do it?” 

“No countdown,” Shiro shook his head at her suggestion. “Just do it at your own pace.”

She hummed her acknowledgment, and peered into his arm, shifting a little. Shiro took a steadying breath, the fingers of his left hand curling a little in his lap. He pointedly pulled his attention across the room, noting the various stations and the robotics equipment in the lab while fighting the nerves rising in his throat. 

His arm had been bothering him for too long, though, and she was right when she said that something needed to be done. He knew he was probably being a little childish by refusing to go see the Garrison’s prosthesis specialists, especially when the pain had started to keep him awake and had very nearly made him collapse before Pidge had found him in the hall, but he had still refrained. But knowing now that they had messed up his arm when they’d had the appropriate plans in front of them was frustrating. 

“Sorry,” her voice pulled his attention back a split second before the pain shot through his arm.

He bit back a shout by clenching his teeth and clenching his fist tighter against his leg.

Thankfully, she’d had the foresight to strap his arm down, otherwise he wasn’t sure what would have happened. He’d probably have yanked his arm off the table, best case scenario. In the worst case, he would have smacked her in the face with the metal of his prosthetic, since she was leaning so close, and then they’d both feel terrible for entirely different, but related, reasons.

“Sorry,” she whispered again, peering up at him with...concern? His vision was a little fuzzy and he blinked to clear it, and decided it was definitely concern. Shiro tried to offer her a smile, shaking his head silently. He didn’t trust himself to use words just yet, but his attempt seemed to calm her at least a little. “That’s the worst part, at least. Until I reattach it, but it’ll be a while before we get there.”

“Alright,” he managed, though his voice sounded tight. And then, when she looked up again with that same worried look, Shiro grinned again. She nodded at him and looked back to his arm, pulling the detached end out and laying it over the side of the hatch. He flinched instinctively when she looked back in, though thankfully she didn’t notice it. Pidge wasn’t going to hurt him any worse than he’d been hurt, but even though the pain had dulled to a throbbing ache, the phantom shooting pains were another story.

“When did you start noticing that it wasn’t right?” she asked, and when he looked at her he noticed that she was laying another disconnected wire over the side of the hole and he hadn’t even felt it. His nerve component really had been detached, and it was kind of surreal to see someone working on it. They’d knocked him out when they replaced the insides of the Galran prosthetic, and he’d been unconscious, fainted from blood loss, when he first got the arm.

“Huh?”

The sound slipped out before he had parsed her question, and she answered around the tool in her mouth, “The pain, the arm. When did you start noticing something was up?”

Shiro felt his mouth go dry, remembering some of the sleepless nights. He always woke up from the nightmares with pain flaring up his arm, searing him into wakefulness with a yelp and instant groping for the bottle of painkillers on his nightstand. He swallowed, and turned his gaze across the room while he searched for words. He’d already saddled her with this burden, when she was probably as nervous to work on his arm as he was to have anyone touch it, so he didn’t think he should go into too much detail.

Instead, he tried to count back the days and weeks until he realized it had been two months. It may have only been a few weeks for his current state, but the symptoms had started so long ago that he was to blame for letting it get so out of hand.

“Well?” she prompted after a long silence, and he sighed.

“I think it’s been about...two months?”

The steady movement from her ceased, and he felt her eyes upon him with that crawling feeling one gets when someone’s watching them. When she spoke, her tone was clipped, incredulous.

“Excuse me?”

“It wasn’t this bad, at first,” Shiro glanced at her and then away quickly. “I just got used to it.”

She exhaled slowly, deliberately, and when he looked back, unable to help himself, he watched her pinch the bridge of her nose. The glasses she was wearing today were perched higher than usual, on top of her fingers, and they were askew, and he had to beat away a few errant thoughts of how it made her look kind of cute. She was his best friend’s sister, after all.

“Okay, so you’re telling me that you ignored something you knew was unusual for two months?”

When Pidge looked back up at him, Shiro swallowed and nodded.

With a sigh, she dropped her hand and settled her glasses into place before turning back to him. “Alright, then, what about when it started to get worse? When you  _ really _ knew something was wrong and you should fix it, but didn’t want to see the specialists at the Garrison?”

“Probably about when you started noticing,” he said, and at her stern look, he added, “or the week before.”

“The week before, then,” she picked up her tools again. “That was three weeks ago, Shiro.”

“I know,” he grimaced.

“What would you do if you got a really serious infection or something from it? You were already running a bit of a fever, and honestly I should have taken you straight to them because I’m really not technically authorized to do maintenance on an actual, attached prosthetic yet. Considering how incompetent they are,” she tapped the nerve connector, “I’m glad I didn’t make you go to them. But you need to tell someone when things like this happen, Shiro. If you just leave it until someone else notices, or until your scheduled appointment, it could get even worse.”

When he didn’t speak, he heard her sigh again. He focused on carefully unfurling the fist on his leg and then closing his fingers again. When he opened his hand once more, Pidge finally spoke again.

“At least tell me, then,” her voice was soft, and when Shiro glanced up at her, she was seemingly focused entirely on the wiring in his arm. She pulled at something, and then she pulled the entire set of wires out of his arm and placed them on the desk, reaching for her toolkit. He stared for a moment and switched his gaze between the wires in front of her and the empty space in his arm. But then she looked up at him and said again, “Tell me if it hurts again, okay?”

Her tone and her expression were imploring, as if begging him, and he swallowed thickly before allowing himself to commit to his almost strangled, “Okay.”

She grinned triumphantly and turned back to messing with the wires, but after only a second or two she frowned a little and glanced back up. “Or don’t. Don’t agree just yet. I know these plans like the back of my hand and all but this  _ is  _ my first foray into uh, practical experience, and all. Which I’ve already told you like three times. But you agreed not to hold me responsible! Or wait–did you? I don’t remember. Shit.” Pidge bit her lip, messing with the connectors and detaching one of them before selecting one of the connectors she’d picked out earlier and starting to attach it. “Well, it’s too late now, I guess. You can sue my dad, I guess. Or my brother. They’ll both have more money than me, working at the Garrison and all. Sue them for, I dunno, negligence in keeping an eye on me, or something?”

“Pidge…”

“Not that I think I’m going to mess up!” she interjected quickly, pulling out a wire and sitting it aside while reaching for the replacement she had next to her. “Like I said, I know these plans like the back of my hand. But I’m saying, just in case I mess up–and I don’t actually think I will, this plan is so  _ easy _ –don’t sue me. You won’t get much money. And besides–”

“ _ Pidge _ ,” Shiro said, louder, and she broke off, giving him a startled look. “I already said I wouldn’t sue you, remember?”

She deflated a little and opened her mouth, but Shiro cut in again. “You know the plans and if you hadn’t told me that you’d never done this before, I wouldn’t have known it. You seem like you know exactly what you’re doing. And besides,” he smiled at her, “I trust you.”

Pidge blinked at him in surprise, then a light dusting of pink spread across her cheeks as the smile spread across her lips, and she cleared her throat a little as she turned back to her work. “I mean, okay, if you say so. I guess?”

He laughed, and he watched as her shoulders relaxed and her hands continued working through the wiring. She picked a few apart, carefully examined each wire, and occasionally replaced one, and Shiro just watched.

It had taken about ten minutes for Pidge to pull the wires out of his arm, and it had probably taken about forty-five for her to finish picking apart the wires and replace what needed replaced. It seemed much faster than that, though. Especially when she occasionally started rambling to herself–” _ ugh, I still can’t believe those Garrison stooges actually used this connector instead. I specifically told them…” _ –so before Shiro knew it, she had lifted the wires back into the empty cavity in his arm and started to reattach them. 

“Didn’t you reserve the lab for homework?” he asked, slowly, as she reattached the last wire before the one that went into the nerve component. “You don’t have much time left, now for–”

“Oh, hush,” she snorted, leaning back to look at him, eyebrow quirked. She had fallen into a comfort zone, both with her work and with him, and she was completely at ease. For now. He had a feeling that reconnecting the nerves was going to put both of them back to square one, but maybe he was wrong. “I’m actually ahead on my homework. I just like to use this lab occasionally to research and test some of my Rover designs, but you’re more important.”

Shiro forced himself not to think about how soft her tone went when she said that he was more important. He asked, instead, “Rover?”

Pidge stiffened, and then looked up. “Holy crow. I just...I haven’t told anyone anything about the Rover II and here I am just chatting about him. Shit. I don’t want to bring it up until I get a little further. I mean, it’s the second one, and Matt already knows I’m working on it, but since he and Hunk helped me build the first one I’m not surprised he knows? Anyway, please just...don’t tell anyone?”

He felt his eyebrow raise, and Pidge noticed. She groaned.

“I’ll promise not to tell anyone,” he said slowly, and watched as her eyes lit up. “I won’t tell as long as you promise not to worry your brother or anyone else about my arm, or something.”

“This agreement starts right now, right?” Pidge asked, glancing away sheepishly.

Shiro frowned a little and asked, against his better judgment, “Who did you tell?”

“I mean, I didn’t really tell him?” Pidge had met his eyes, briefly, before she averted her gaze again. “Keith was worried, and we talked about it a little. I mentioned that I thought it was your arm, and he told me that the Garrison guys had spooked you somehow.”

That explained a few things, then. Keith was observant, too, but usually he was straightforward when it came to things like that. And he had been in their previous discussion over it, to a certain point. But in the past, he would have barged in and demanded to know what was wrong, or do as Pidge had been tempted to do and drag Shiro to the Garrison’s specialists. To know that he’d suspected it was worse than Shiro let on, talked to Pidge about it, and not acted on it was just another sign of one of the many ways Keith had matured in the months–years–that Shiro had been absent. 

It also meant he was being considerate of Shiro’s unease about the specialists.

“I knew you’d talked to Keith,” he admitted. “He told me that you’d mentioned my arm.”

“Did he tell you? When we talked was also…” Pidge trailed off, swallowing a little.

“Was also...what?” Shiro prompted, confused. She’d been pretty open about actually talking to Keith about Shiro’s arm, but now she was a little hesitant, so it piqued his interest.

“Well, I asked him if he thought I could convince you to let me look at it,” she muttered as she double-checked the connectors she’d already attached. “I know you probably lost it in the war, and you’re nervous about showing it, and since we haven’t known each other very long I wasn’t sure if you trusted me enough to let me look, so I asked Keith if he thought you did.”

There was a lump in his throat that even swallowing didn’t get rid of.

“You did that?” he asked, softly. “For me?”

She nodded quickly, then finally, determined, lifted her head again. “Yeah, I did. And for good reason, too! You’d have just let it be and stayed in pain until your next appointment, after all!”

Pidge, he could tell, was forcing her bravado, but he appreciated her honesty.

He told himself it was the stress fever that made her seem so cute right now, but the excuse was paper thin.

“Thank you,” he said instead, a genuine smile on his lips. His arm, and pretty much everything else, still hurt, but after she reattached the nerves and he gave it a few days to heal, Shiro was fairly confident it would be fine.

Pidge turned away, quickly, rubbing at the tip of her nose before turning back to his arm. “Don’t thank me yet. Didn’t I already say something like that? Wait until after you cuss at me for how bad it hurts when I reattach the nerves, or something? And then wait for a day or two to see if the pain goes away before you actually thank me.”

“I can’t thank you in advance?” he asked, turning away as she started to lift that last wire and connector.

“You’ll probably regret it,” she drawled, her tone back to usual. “At least, for the initial pain here. You shouldn’t regret it later, though.”

To punctuate the  _ later _ in her sentence, he felt the pinching, shooting pain as she clicked the wire and attached connector back into place in the nerve component. He drew in a sharp breath and it hissed through his teeth.

“See?” Pidge’s tone was breathless, and she laughed but it sounded forced. “You regret it already, huh?”

Shiro, who had leaned forward and was covering his mouth with his other hand to stifle the pathetic whimper that had escaped, shook his head at her and struggled to bite out a denial. 

His “No,” was breathless and tight, and it probably didn’t do much to comfort her, but he heard her start to shuffle things around. When he focused on the clatter of her tools and not on the sound of his own heart thumping almost painfully in his chest, he could hear that her breaths were shaky. She was nearly as winded as he was, and Shiro immediately felt guilty for putting her in that situation.

He tried to open his mouth to speak, but no words would come so he remained silent and just listened as Pidge moved around. He heard cabinet doors open and close, he heard the metallic beeping of the locked cabinet as Pidge unlocked it once more with her fob to return unused wires to their respective places, and he heard water running as she undoubtedly washed her hand, but he still couldn’t find his voice until he saw her feet reenter his vision. He brought his eyes up to her and blinked to clear his vision.

“Here,” she glanced away, brow furrowed, as she offered him a styrofoam cup of water. “Drink that while I unstrap your arm.”

“Thanks,” he managed. His voice cracked, and he lifted the water to his lips to drink.

“Mhm,” she acknowledged, moving to unbuckle the straps holding his prosthetic down. As soon as she reached down, though, a sensation reached him through his pain and he gasped, nearly dropping the cup in his hand. Pidge turned her attention to him quickly and asked, almost panicked, “What is it? Does something hurt? That was a stupid question, of  _ course _ it hurts, but you know what I meant. Are you okay?”

Shiro shook his head at the first question, but then nodded near the end. “No, nothing extra hurts, yes I’m fine. I just...can you…” he didn’t know how to phrase it, but then just forced it out. “Can you just...touch my arm again?”

She looked at him but then turned to do as he asked, placing two fingers lightly on his wrist, as though she would be checking for his pulse. And he  _ felt _ them there.

He hadn’t felt the sensation of touch in his arm since the Garrison had rewired it. It felt unreal, and Shiro couldn’t help it. He started to laugh then, and Pidge looked at him in surprise and concern as he put the cup down on the table and reached to unstrap the arm himself.

“Don’t move too fast, it might–” she started, but she trailed off when he lifted his arm and turned to touch the table, then reached out to pick something up. He rolled the pencil between his fingers and grinned, really grinned, for the first time in a while. “Wait. Are you...you can feel again.”

Pidge had started to ask a question, but then it turned into an awed statement. He nodded, and her jaw dropped before she threw both arms in the air.

“YES! Holy crow, I didn’t expect–of course, I knew the prosthesis was highly advanced Galra tech, so I knew it would be good, I just didn’t think it was  _ that _ good. The sensation of touch! In a prosthesis!” She looked at him like that meant much to him, but all he could do was laugh as she continued. “And I can’t believe that my actual design can still transmit it! I knew there had to be some pressure sensors, or something, so I accounted for that, but is that really all it took?”

The sting was back, so despite his excitement, and hers, Shiro sat back down and rested his arm against the table again. “I guess so,” his tone was still happy, but Pidge immediately picked up on how subdued he was.

“Right! It hurts still, huh?” she rummaged for a moment, and then she was grabbing his left hand and dropping a few pills into his palm. “Here, painkillers. They’re extra strength, because I get killer headaches, so only take one if you’re worried about it. They won’t take effect immediately, obviously, but they’ll work pretty well when they do kick in.”

Shiro nodded, and then popped both of them. The amount of painkillers he’d been taking, he figured he didn’t have to worry about two extra strength pills. He reached for the water then, finishing the cup, and then turned back to Pidge. She was looking at him, nervous again but with a grin twitching at the corners of her lips, and he smiled back.

“Let me grab you some more water,” she reached to take his cup, but as she turned, Shiro caught her wrist. “Huh? What is it?”

He didn’t think, he just acted. 

Shiro tugged Pidge closer and leaned forward, resting his head on her shoulder. These tables in the lab were tall, as was his stool, and it wasn’t much of a stretch because she was so short. In fact, it was almost comfortable. As she stiffened, just a little, he exhaled slowly and said, with far more sincerity than any of the times before, “Thank you, Pidge.”

She reached up with the hand not holding the cup and gently patted the back of his head, almost awkwardly at first.

“You’re welcome,” she answered, just as softly.

He noted, victoriously, that she hadn’t tried to deny his thanks this time.

After a few moments longer, perhaps too long, he leaned back and her fingers skated through his hair as she pulled her hand away. Shiro looked up at her and she smiled for a second before turning quickly and proclaiming, loudly, “I’ll bring you more water!” 

This time, though, Shiro couldn’t deny that he’d seen the flush spreading across her cheeks. The knowledge made his own face feel warm.

As she filled his cup again at the sink, he turned and flexed his hand, feeling the synthetic fingers brushing against the synthetic palm for the first time in months. He felt giddy with relief at the sensation, and it was all thanks to Pidge. 

He’d already appreciated her for many things–helping him with his mathematics, partnering with him for their history class, and even the fact that she was simply his best friend’s sister, but now there were more things. She was kind, caring, smart, and considerate, and he owed her. He didn’t know what he could possibly do to repay the tiny girl with her back to him, but he knew he had to try.

A tiny girl who was starting to slip through the cracks and help him open up again, it seemed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO. The stuff.
> 
> This took so long for a bunch of different reasons, including the fact that I've distanced myself from the VLD fandom for the most part? It got really toxic on tumblr and I just...noped right out of there. Unfortunately it spread to my writing and sometimes it's hard to write for it now. BUT the main reasons were definitely work and school, and then I joined the plance zine, allurance big bang, and shidge valentine's exchange, plus worked on a group project for Project-ML in the miraculous ladybug fandom, and didn't really have much time after all of that. It's my fault for biting off more than I can chew and I know that, but I can still apologize, right?
> 
> More recently, though, my left wrist/arm has been bothering me, and I went to the doctor about a week ago. The early diagnosis is that she thinks I have carpal tunnel (Y I K E S) and tbh typing over half of this chapter in the last 3 hours has made it feel not so great right now BUT ANYWAY. I have an appointment in about a week and a half to find out for sure, and then find out some options for if I do have carpal tunnel. The good news is that it's my non-dominant hand, so I can still do my art and write stuff by hand if I get ambitious and if my left hurts too much. But this may have an effect on future updates, so I did want to warn you! I don't intend to drop this story, especially since Shidge content is so hard to find and I have such a soft spot for this story, but updates may take a while. <3
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, if you're still here, and I apologize for the wait!
> 
> As usual, hit me up on tumblr at [battleshidge](http://battleshidge.tumblr.com) or my main at [panda013](http://panda013.tumblr.com)! <3


	9. Latte IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was 8:23 PM, and Katie Holt was pretty sure the man sitting across from her in the little café was glaring holes into the top of her head while she focused on her burger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Hope you haven't been waiting too long?
> 
> I just suddenly decided I wanted to write more Shidge, and obviously updating a fic I already had going was a better option than starting a new one.
> 
> Anyway, hope you like it!

 

“Let me do something to thank you,” Shiro said as evenly as he could muster, after Pidge had locked everything away and cleaned up and they were leaving the lab. Pidge’s neck still felt warm from their proximity after she’d finished his arm and given him painkillers, but she managed to keep from jumping out of her skin at the sound of his voice.

“I told you, wait a few days to see if it’s better before–”

“No,” he cut her off before she could finish, and she felt her cheeks flush a little at the sincerity in his tone. “Just...something, Pidge. Let me buy you something to eat, since it’s almost dinnertime.”

Pidge swallowed thickly, the half-formed idea of a date teasing from the back of her mind. “How about this,” she found herself suggesting, pausing to look at him as they walked slowly down the stairs. She was a few steps above him when he turned to look at her, their faces almost level, and his features had started to relax. They were less pinched in that pained expression than they had been before. “You should rest tonight, but how about after class on Monday? I know eight is a little late for dinner, but I know from experience that even if I eat something before class I’ll still be a bit hungry after.”

“Pidge…”

She put her hands up. “I promise I won’t back out, unless you’ve got something you need to do after class that day. I just really think you should go home to rest. You look like hell, and we already know you haven’t been sleeping well, so just take some time to recover.”

 _Give me some time to recover_ , she felt like she was silently begging, recalling the way he’d held her close in his gratitude and all the things that proximity did to her heart.

He considered it, turning his eyes down in concentration, lips curled a little in frustration. She had a feeling it wasn’t at her, though. He was probably frustrated with himself, because he felt like he owed her something even though she didn’t want anything in return except for his well-being. Finally, the tension eased from his shoulders and he reached up to grab the strap of his backpack with his left hand.

“Alright, then. After class on Monday.”

He reached out for a handshake, smiling a little nervously through the discomfort of moving his arm so soon after it had been adjusted. Pidge reached out with a gentle hand to take his, and they shook.

“Now go to sleep,” she forced her tone to stay flat, and Shiro snorted a little as he pulled his hand back and tucked it carefully in his pocket.

“You’re one to talk,” he quipped back, and she grinned. That sounded a little more like the normal Shiro, from before his arm had really started to bother him. It was a relief to see that demeanor again.

* * *

 

Even a few days later, on Sunday night, Pidge could still recall the look of shock on Shiro’s face as he ran his fingertips across the smooth lab table after she’d closed the hatch on his arm. And even though his features were slightly pinched from pain, she had seen elation rise and bring a flush of color back to his cheeks.

She wondered what it would be like, to be able to really _feel_ for the first time in months. It was something that she couldn’t quite fathom, losing feeling in her arm or hand, and the thought was both mildly terrifying but also somewhat intriguing. She’d never wish it on anyone, of course, but she wondered if making a simulation of some sort for it would be beneficial. Maybe it would help other people understand their friends and family that had prosthetic limbs?

Her laptop screen flickered to black in front of her and she started, blinking to clear the vague imprint of the shining screen from her vision. Had she really been that distracted, thinking about Shiro and his prosthetic?

The flash of his smile, so childish and pure for the first time since she’d met him–yup, she’d definitely been distracted by the memory. She felt the heat rising up the back of her neck, and Pidge groaned and pushed her laptop towards the middle of her table to drop her head in front of it. Instead of Shiro’s glee, this time she remembered the way her chest had squeezed when she’d found him crumpled against the wall in a hallway, curled in on himself as if it would protect him from his pain. Her fingers ached to reach out and comfort him, and she let out a slow sigh, opening her eyes to banish the image.

“I should be working on Rover,” she muttered to herself, sitting up again and reaching to wake up her laptop. She’d made a little bit of headway with her coding on the Rover II’s security sensors before her tiredness had caught up and allowed distractions–thoughts of Shiro, of course–to slip through the cracks in her resolve.

And to think, it wasn’t even one in the morning yet.

 It was Monday, though, and she did have the early shift, so Pidge forced herself to her feet after saving Rover II’s files to her most secure drive and closing the lid to her laptop. She stretched and a yawn slipped out, unbidden, before she made her way to her bed. Pidge needed the sleep, and her side project would always be waiting for her when she had the time to come back to it. She didn’t need to force herself to stay awake all the time to work on it more when she had other things she needed to do. And, Pidge reasoned with herself as she stifled another yawn, she was already two phases ahead in the twelve-phase project plans she’d drafted than anticipated, so there was plenty of time for her to take a breather. Well, it was more like there was plenty of time for her to have at least one night where she slept more than four hours consecutively. 

So she clambered in bed, glad she was already in her lazy clothes, and drifted off.

* * *

 

When the bell chimed above the door, Pidge was busy making four ridiculously complex frappucinos. Who the hell orders half soy and half regular? Normally if they’re conscious of it, they’ll just order the soy. And _three_ extra pumps of vanilla? Pidge didn’t even want to think about what it would taste like, and vindictively hoped that it would cause more problems to their digestive systems than it helped.

Shaking her head to clear her mind, she called a greeting to the new customer without even looking up from her task, and Keith finished taking the current order as Pidge capped the second of the four fraps.

Keith wrote the order on the cup and slid it back to Pidge’s line, which had the remaining two frappuccino orders, what she read as _car mac_ and was probably a caramel macchiato, and whatever the guy that was stepping aside had just ordered.

“Stephanie and Kat!” she called as she slid the two identical cups up on the serve tray. One of them called a peppy thanks, and they sat down with the two girls that were waiting on the _other_ two ridiculously sugar-filled beverages that Pidge had to finish making. At least these two were essentially the same drink so she could do what she’d done with the first two and make them both at once.

She glided around Keith as he poured a cup of black coffee and one decaf for the older couple that were next, going through the motions so that, by the time she realized what she was doing, she was already calling out the Charles from the side of the caramel macchiato and the morning rush was dwindling. The few people in line were just getting plain teas or coffees, since sometimes a group of older people came in to sit and talk for a while to catch up, and Keith was handling all of those.

The last person that had walked in earlier, while she had been busy with the fraps, towered above the tiny woman in front of him that ordered a simple chamomile.

Shiro smiled at her and she beamed back as Keith stepped over to get the lady her tea after she’d paid him. Pidge slipped forward to take his place at the register.

“Good morning, Shiro,” she greeted, reaching for a quick sip of her coffee under the counter to steady herself and trying not to make a face because it was lukewarm. “The usual?”

He grinned, and she noted, with some relief, that it was much easier than any of his smiles over the last couple of weeks. He didn’t seem to be in too much pain or discomfort when he rummaged in his pocket for his wallet and counted out the exact change, sliding it across the counter. “Yes, please.”

“Alrighty then,” Pidge punched the buttons on the register and the drawer kicked open. She deposited the payment in the till and then asked, “Here or to go?”

“I have to talk to a professor, so I’ve got to take it and go,” he admitted sheepishly. “I did pretty badly on a math test last week, so I’ve got to set up a time to retake it.”

Pidge hummed understandingly, grabbing the appropriate cup and stepping aside to start making it. Shiro followed, even though there was no one else behind him to be helped yet. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. You were kind of out of it for a big part of last week.”

He made a noise of agreement in his throat. She focused on making his drink then, though her hands stilled at the warmth in his voice when he said, “Yeah, it was pretty rough, but I’ve got a great friend that figured it out. She was a big help, and she promised I’d get to thank her after class today.”

“Well, _you’re_ feeling better,” she noted, trying to hide the way her stomach dropped out at the deliberate tone he adopted near the end of his statement.

“And I’m still not letting you slip out of letting me pay you back, at least a little,” he shot back, leaning lightly on the high counter between him and the machine she was currently using. “You’d better think about what you’ll want after class, because I’m leaving the decision up to you, Pidge. You get to decide where we eat.”

The nagging voice in the back of her head kept whispering, _like a date!_ and Pidge was having trouble ignoring it. Out loud, she forced a groan. “Shirooooo, it’s still more than twelve hours away.”

“Still, think about it,” he laughed, the sound rushing over her and filling her with warmth.

How long had it been since she’d truly got to hear him chuckle like that, without the slight edge of it being forced through the pain he’d tried to hide? It was...nice. _More than nice_ , she thought, trying to fight down the heat crawling up her neck.

And before she could stop herself, she opened her big mouth and murmured, “I missed your laugh.”

After the words tumbled out, she caught her breath and jerked her eyes up to him, mortified, to find him staring blankly at her, mouth slightly open. She pulled her eyes away, casting around for something to say even as she reached for the plastic lid for his cup, and then she heard him clear his throat awkwardly before he spoke, almost as softly as she had.

“I missed laughing.” 

Her fingers still trembled, but they were more careful as they pressed the lid around the rim of his cup. The silence that fell was stifling, but not quite awkward. It was just...warm. Incredibly warm. Her hands rested around his drink for a few seconds longer than necessary before she lifted it up to the counter where he waited, barely daring to glance up at him.

His smile was tender, and her chest squeezed but she couldn’t help but grin shyly back.

“Good luck meeting your professor,” she found her voice, though her teasing tone cracked a little bit. She couldn’t quite find it in her to be embarrassed over it.

“I’ll need it,” he replied, almost breathless, as his callused fingertips brushed against her hand as his warm drink shifted possession. “See you in class, Pidge.”

“See ya,” she managed in a normal tone, offering a grin and a wave.

After a moment, as he stepped outside into the street on his way to campus, she felt the tension leave her shoulders and wondered when it had settled there in the first place. The back of her hand tingled where his fingers had brushed it and she shook her head, turning to the register to grab her coffee to top it off and warm it up...only to find Keith looking at her with an amused expression.

“What?” she recoiled a little, raising a brow.

“You told me that he let you mess with his arm, and he told me too, but I didn’t know it was like _that_ ,” he remarked, turning to wipe down the counter as Pidge’s jaw dropped in...shock? Embarrassment? Some kind of hybrid between the two?

“Like _what_?” she managed, snatching her coffee and taking another swig. Still lukewarm and gross, so she crossed over to top it off.

“How long have you had that massive crush on him?” Keith shot back, straightforward as ever, and Pidge nearly poured coffee on her hand. She sat her cup down and turned to glare back at him, and he just shrugged. “You can deny it all you want, but I’m not stupid.”

“Says the one who almost got caught breaking into the Garrison,” she muttered under her breath.

“That’s not stupidity, that’s just bad luck.”

Pidge wanted to come up a rebuttal, but she also wanted the conversation to just...drop. She didn’t want Keith to straightforwardly ask about her... _crush_ again, because she didn’t want to have to try to lie. She honestly didn’t think she was really good at lying. Fibs, white lies? Maybe. But to try to tell Keith, to his face, that he was imagining her feelings for Shiro probably wouldn’t pan out too well. It would show in the flush on her cheeks and her nervous desire to look anywhere _but_ Keith.

She sipped her coffee instead.

“Okay, fine, you don’t want to tell me,” Keith snorted. “That’s fine. I’ll find out eventually, probably.”

Like any rational adult, Pidge stuck her tongue out at him before returning her coffee to its designated spot and casting around for something to do. She ended up stepping out to wipe down some vacated tables, and Keith let the topic drop. At least for the time being.

The rest of the shift seemed to pass in a blur, and before Pidge knew it she was clocking out and passing the reins to Hunk. She was going to have to rush just a little bit to get to her advanced engineering class, but that was fine. Keith poured her a cup of plain coffee to go and snapped a lid on while she grabbed her backpack, and then she was out the door, pulling out her phone to check her emails before she got to class.

Two spam emails were deleted, as was the advertisement from the campus bookstore, but one email made her hesitate. Instead of deleting it without opening it, she pressed to open it, glancing up as she crossed the street. Campus was just a block away from here. Pidge turned her eyes back to the email and skimmed down it, her stomach sinking a little in trepidation.

The head of the robotics department wanted her in his office during her first class.

The email didn’t give any details–whether it was good or bad was yet to be determined. Pidge found it fairly likely that they’d taken inventory or something on the lab she kept booking for her independent research and found out that she’d used two or three of the high-quality parts. They probably hadn’t gone so far as to realize she’d used them in a functional prosthetic, though, since she’d kind of used her hobby to tamper with the surveillance, just a little.

It was probably time to face the music for that, since it was too soon to hear about the summer internship she’d put in an early application for.

She probably wouldn’t get _that_ , either, if there was a strike on her record for part theft.

Pidge took a drink of her coffee and crossed the street to campus this time, veering slightly to enter the robotics and engineering building through a different door than usual. It would bring her closer to the head’s office, and she’d really rather not face questions from her already snooty upperclassmen peers over why she wasn’t heading directly to class.

As she walked, she flipped over to her texts, draining her coffee cup and tossing it in the bin. Matt had been surprisingly silent for the morning, but Hunk had warned her he was running a few minutes late to his shift, which she hadn’t seen until just now so it didn’t help her anyway. That brought her to the door she was kind of dreading, and she slipped into the office to face the secretary.

She rapped lightly on the doorframe as she entered, and then cleared her throat and tried to keep her tone normal. “I’m Katie Holt? I was asked to come see Dr. Slav?”

* * *

 

She’d been right, and she’d been bobbled back and forth between Dr. Slav, the extremely eccentric head of the department, and _Iverson_ , the monster, to decide a punishment. Iverson, of course, was all for expelling her, since he’d never quite believed she was reformed after hacking into the system when she was younger, but Slav and even Montgomery, who she’d thought disapproved of her in general, slipped in after her missed class and said that expulsion would only put a ‘ _disturbingly clever roboticist_ ’ on a path that could turn her against the Garrison.

 _As if that would take much_ , she thought when she glanced back to a frustrated Iverson.

Dr. Slav had ranted and raved about how expelling her had led to such a disaster in no fewer than thirty-seven other realities, and Pidge wondered if he’d been exposed to too many chemicals or electric shocks or something in his admittedly long career. His panic attacks over it, however, helped Iverson break down and relent, though he was unhappy about it.

She’d missed her other classes when they went to speak to the _Dean_ about it, as well. She was only thankful he was an old pal of her Dad’s, because leniency from him was supposedly even rarer than leniency from Iverson.

“Well, Miss Holt,” he’d intoned seriously, flipping through the documents on his desk. She saw her student ID photo and knew it was her records, which felt like an invasion of privacy on some level. “Your grades are exceptional. You excel in your studies, and your physical scores are adequate. Your team exercises seem to be lacking, however…”

“ _Lacking_ ,” Iverson scoffed at the word choice, but chose not to continue when the Dean gave him a severe side glance.

“It would be best if you could work on that, but for now I want to restrict your privileges since you’ve refused to tell us how you’ve used the three missing parts. You’ll only be able to access the robotics lab with at least one other student, and you’re not to open the restricted cabinets without a faculty member present.”

“Yessir,” she found herself agreeing, silently bemoaning the loss of privacy where _Rover II_ was concerned.

“You’ll also write a reflection essay to explain what you’ve learned, due to me by the end of the week, and Professor Montgomery will be assigning you three additional projects throughout the semester,” here, the Dean offered a cheeky grin. “If you have so much free time for independent research as such a young student, then you’ll have plenty of time to finish even these additional assignments, too.”

She had to work to bite back a groan, but nodded stiffly and offered another, “Yessir.”

After a bit more scolding, Iverson barely containing his frustration and Slav ending up in another panic over how this could go wrong in at least seven other realities, Pidge was free to leave. It was absolutely appalling that she hadn’t noticed the passage of time, because she had scarcely enough time to drop by and grab a snack to serve as her very, _very_ late lunch before she had to go to her five o’clock history class.

The entire ordeal had been a rollercoaster and Pidge still hadn’t decided whether she should be nervous about it or feel elated that she hadn’t been kicked to the curb or thrown in prison for taking parts from a military university’s robotics lab. The idea was nerve-wracking, and she forced herself to push the thoughts aside for now as she made her way to class.

When she arrived, Pidge dropped heavily into her seat next to Shiro with a groan, pulling out a granola bar she’d grabbed from the campus store in her rush. Her head was spinning with all the things that had happened through the early afternoon, and she kind of wanted to crash face-first into her pillow and scream a little of her frustration out.

“That bad?” Shiro asked, his tone light. She glanced over to see him quirking a brow at her in a teasing arch that made her give an amused snort.

She opened the granola bar and shook her head in response.

“Not really, I guess. I just have to do bonus assignments and a reflection essay, and I’m kind of on research probation or something.”

She took a bite and realized belatedly that perhaps giving him so many details hadn’t been the best decision, because now he was going to ask for more. Pidge had very resolutely refused to tell the powers that be–the Dean, Iverson, Slav, and Montgomery–where the parts she’d taken had gone, out of respect for Shiro’s privacy, but that could very quickly get out of hand if he started asking questions.

“Research probation?” his brows pinched and she swallowed her bite. She forced a shrug and focused instead on dragging out her history textbook.

“It’s no biggie, just pissed someone off in robotics.”

Shiro was quiet for a long moment as the rest of the class continued filing in, and then he spoke in a statement rather than a question. “They found out about the parts you used to fix my arm last week.”

Pidge shrank into herself just a little and shrugged again. “They found out I took some parts, yeah.”

“Why are they punishing you for doing it for a good reason, then? Wouldn’t they know what happened if they’d checked the video feeds?”

She finished her snack and scratched the back of her head sheepishly. “About that…”

“You didn’t...tell them?” his tone was nearly incredulous. “Pidge, you could have been _expelled_ for stealing parts from the cabinet, especially if you didn’t tell them why you did it! And the video. Did they really not look at the video?”

“I tampered with the video,” she hissed to get him to quiet down, dragging a hand down her face. His expression changed again, and Pidge was starting to learn that Shiro had a wider range of expressions than he’d really let anyone see. “You were worried, so I made it look like the video had been damaged. Some sorta malfunction, you know.”

“ _Pidge_ ,” he breathed, frowning at her. That was definitely a patented Shiro lecturing tone, right there. She could tell with one syllable.

“I didn’t get expelled, though! I just have to do three extra big projects in my advanced engineering class, since I seem to have _so much_ free time, and a long reflection letter to apologize for not telling them what I put the pieces in. No big deal,” she shrugged, reaching to tug out another granola bar. Missing lunch and dealing with the possibility of being expelled had really given her an appetite.

“Extra pro–Pidge, you don’t have _time_ for extra projects, what are they _thinking_? You don’t sleep enough as it _is_ –” Pidge snorted at that, but then Dr. Newman stepped to the podium and Shiro, begrudgingly, fell silent. In a lull before Dr. Newman found his roll call document, Shiro hissed, “We’re finishing this conversation after class.”

Pidge hummed in agreement, a little hesitant, as the professor started to call names from the front of the room.

* * *

 

It was 8:23 PM, and Katie Holt was pretty sure the man sitting across from her in the little café was glaring holes into the top of her head while she focused on her burger.

Shiro still hadn’t said anything, and Pidge was torn between wanting him to speak up and wanting him to drop the subject entirely. For good. Shiro had a stubborn streak as bad or maybe even _worse_ than her brother’s, though, which made it worse than hers by association, so she didn’t really harbor any true hopes of him giving up.

“I’m going to tell them,” Shiro finally said, and Pidge looked up at him so quickly that she accidentally swallowed a too-large bite of cheeseburger. She started coughing and reached for her soda, taking a steadying drink as Shiro reached across the table, alarmed, to grab her shoulder. “Pidge, are you okay?!”

She beat her closed fist against her chest a few times as she coughed again, holding up a finger so that Shiro would know that she was planning to speak.

There he went, delving into the conversation she had been silently begging him not to start.

“I’m…” she cleared her throat, “...fine. But what do you _mean_ , you’re going to tell them? You’re going to tell _who_? And tell them _what_? Because you’d better not be thinking of telling the school about your arm after I went through all that trouble to keep you from their idiot clutches–”

“That’s _exactly_ what I’m planning to do,” he declared, letting his hand fall from her shoulder and crossing his arms a little childishly over his broad chest. He looked away, out the window next to them and into the street, where cars and people casually passed. She followed his arms up, from the bulk of his chest to the muscular biceps and taut shoulders, up the line of his neck, to the stark jawline that cut across.

He was still beautiful, even when he was kind of mad at her.

She pinched herself discreetly and bit her lip as he sighed and turned back to her. This was a _serious_ conversation, and she couldn’t let herself be distracted by it.

“I can’t let you take all the blame for it, Pidge. You’re lucky they didn’t _expel_ you, but assigning you extra projects when you’re already in advanced classes _and_ working? That’s excessive. If I go and talk to them–”

“It won’t change anything at this point, Shiro,” Pidge interrupted him as she reached for her drink more calmly this time. “I’ll still be in the dog house for holding information back from them, and it could technically be worse since I’m not a licensed prosthetic expert. My long term goal may be to study prosthetics, but right now I’m just an advanced robotics and engineering student who hasn’t actually got to declare a focus yet.”

“Pidge…”

“If we tell them now, I could lose the chance to work on prostheses in the future,” she sipped at her drink. “Even if it’s a long shot, I don’t want to risk that.”

“I can’t just let you keep taking care of everything,” Shiro frowned, leaning forward to push her cup back down as she tried to hide behind taking a drink of it again. He caught on fast. “You should have just told them what it was from the start. They misused your blueprints, or whatever you call prosthetic diagrams, and that’s on them. You were fixing it for the well-being of a fellow soldier!”

“What’s done is done, Shiro,” Pidge shot back, diverting her gaze from his piercing eyes to the window. “I really appreciate that you’re worried about me, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m already ahead of where I thought I’d be with Rover, so a few weeks without extra time to work on him won’t really bother me. And if Montgomery keeps the extra projects as basic as the ones in class have been, it’ll hardly take any effort.”

“That’s not the _point_ ,” Shiro forced her drink, which she’d tried to lift again, back to the table a second time. This time, though, his hand slid down and he pulled hers off away from the cool plastic, clasping it between both of his warmer, larger hands. “Look, Pidge. You’re shaking.”

And she was. How had she not noticed it before? Pidge swallowed thickly, and Shiro forged on.

“You’ve been kind of distracted since class started earlier, and I know it’s because you had to deal with all of that on your own. What would you have done if they _had_ actually expelled you, huh?” His tone was softer than his words.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, tightening her other hand against her jeans, hidden beneath the table. “I’d have figured something out.”

“You could have been in prison.”

She flinched at the thought, but she couldn’t deny that the idea had flitted briefly across her mind during their history class.

“I didn’t–”

“I won’t go to them if you’re so against me telling them,” Shiro cut her off, squeezing her hand between his. Warmth crept through her fingers and she realized that she’d barely let go of her cold glass since the conversation had started, which had allowed the chill to seep into her bones. “I won’t tell, but next time, if there _is_ a next time, you don’t have to face it alone like that. Next time, just tell them I was there, too. I’ll come to help you, so you don’t have to deal with all of that alone.”

Pidge wanted to protest. She wanted to tell him that she could handle it all herself, it was just a few extra assignments, she was her father’s daughter so she had some sort of weird, barely-there leniency anyway, but all the words died before she ever tried to open her mouth.

“ _Katie_ ,” Shiro’s tone was earnest, and Pidge felt relief wash over her.

It would be nice, for once, to not face the music alone.

When she’d hacked in to try to find information about her father and brother, she’d always done it alone. Her mother had never known, and if it weren’t for a phone call the time she’d been caught, Colleen would still be oblivious. Her mother hadn’t been able to get to school in time to help defend her, or even hear the entire discussion, even though she’d tried. Before that, though, Pidge had always had Matt at her side to share the load.

When he’d been gone, it felt like everything piled up on her shoulders, bit by bit, and had nowhere else to go. It had been a crushing feeling, but now...knowing that Shiro was around and willing to stand there next to her, help take the brunt of whatever punishment might fall from incurring the wrath of the military establishment, made an odd sense of peace flow through her.

“Alright,” she found the word falling, almost hoarsely, from her lips.

Shiro smiled, his hands squeezing her hand tightly once more, before he let it fall back to the table between them.

“Don’t try to handle everything by yourself anymore, Katie,” he told her, honest and open, and she felt her chest tighten again.

It would be nice, she realized, to not feel like she had to take on the world by herself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I know it's kinda filler-y? Or it seemed like it to me? But it opens the way for a few things I'm planning so I swear parts of it are still gonna be relevant. Just can't tell you which, now, can I? MWAHAHAHAHA.
> 
> Anyway it's 2:30AM and I just finished this a little bit ago so if there are mistakes, I apologize. I'm hoping the lovely Sydney will take a look over it when she wakes up but I guess I should actually send her a message to ask if she will, yeah? Hahaha.
> 
> Anyway, hope you're still enjoying the ride, and I apologize for rather sporadic updates!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> If you like the way I write Shidge, feel free to check out [Lost and Found](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7491141/chapters/17026551)!
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr at [battleshidge](http://battleshidge.tumblr.com) or on my main at [panda013](http://panda013.tumblr.com)!


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